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Essays and Addresses 


HUMOROUS, LITERARY AND HISTORICAL 



BY 


ARTHUR Mac ARTHUR, LL.D. 


OF WASHINGTON, D. C. 


AUTHOR OF 

“ EDUCATION IN ITS RELATION TO MANUAL INDUSTRY,” 
“ BIOGRAPHY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE,” Etc. 


WASHINGTON, D. C. : 
Published by the Author. 
1893. 






1THE UBEAEV 

Of CONGRESS 

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GLENS FALLS PRINTING COMPANY, GLENS FALLS, N. Y. 







PREFATORY NOTE. 


The motive that induces me to make this publica¬ 
tion is not that of authorship, but to preserve in a 
permanent form some of the thoughts that have, from 
time to time, occupied my own mind, and attracted 
the favorable attention of friends. The latter have 
been kind enough to express a desire to have them 
in the easy form of reference which they would assume 
in a printed volume. Yielding to a wish so grateful to 
my own feelings, I affectionately dedicate this work 
to my too partial friends, and hope that it may serve 
to fill up a leisure moment, and recall some pleasant 
remembrances of the past. 





















CONTENTS. 


The Hobbies of Men,. 1-35 

The Three Cavaliers ; or A Reminiscence of Scot¬ 
tish History,. 36-79 

The Fools Are Not All Dead Yet. 80-110 

Re-Incarnation; Its Inconsistencies.111-149 


The Norman French Element in the English Lan¬ 
guage, and Contributions from Other Tongues, 150-179 

Onomatopoeia ; or The Derivation of Words from 


Sound, .180-203 

The Scots ; Their Character,.204-223 

Oliver Cromwell ; Some Anecdotes and Incidents 

in His Life, . 224-275 


Cromwell’s Father, the Brewer—His First Appearance in 
Parliament—Lord of the Fens—His First Election to Par¬ 
liament—Seizing the King’s Proclamation at St. Albans— 
His Chaplains and Buffoons-His Youngest Daughter, 
Lady Frances, and the Chaplain—Cromwell and Christina, 
Queen of Sweden—An Example of Cromwell’s Discipline 
—A Specimen of Cromwell’s Buffoonery—Conspiracies, 
Informers, and Spies—Dispersion of the Long Parliament 
—The Trooper and The Saddle—The Anabaptist Preach¬ 
ers—King or Protector—His Last Days and Death. 


Industrial Education, 


276-318 














THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


The etymological derivation of the word ‘ ‘ Hobby ” is a 
matter of interest, since it is to constitute the sketch of 
the present paper. It originally meant a Scotch or Irish 
horse of inferior stature. There was in former times a 
species of mounted soldiers in the British army called 
hobbies, from the circumstance that they rode upon this 
animal. They were finally disbanded, for it was found 
that, if their hobbies did not run away with them, they 
were in the habit of running off with their hobbies into 
the bogs and mountains, without asking for a permanent 
leave of absence. Hence, the Government took the 
soldier and his hobby to pieces, just as the Mexican and 
Peruvian Indians supposed they did with the troopers of 
Cortez and Pizzaro when they dismounted them. 

By the term, as it will be used in these remarks, I do 
not mean a mere frivolous conceit, that never gets beyond 
an infirm thought, or rises out of nothing but the rela¬ 
tions of money or politics. That kind of a hobby is not 
worth his keeping, and never passes the winning post of 
a great result. Such are not the style of hobbies about 
which we feel inquisitive. Rather let us ascertain the 
force and action of a hobby that canters along as if it 
had a purpose in it, and a destiny to fulfill—a robust 
hobby, with expanded nostrils and a breath that would 


i 



2 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


knock a weak one down—in a word, one that does not 
kneel for his rider to mount, but expects him to vault on 
him without aid; and then shutting his eyes to everything 
on earth but the object in view, plunges right on until 
some treasure is seized, some discovery made, some 
priceless honor obtained, or some great work accom¬ 
plished, while the world exclaims, behold ! what comes 
from riding a hobby. 

It will be observed, therefore, that I do not apply the 
term to the lighter follies and extravagances of mankind, 
but by a happy metaphor I wish to extend it to everything 
that constitutes the ruling passion, or the great principle 
of action in the life of the actors. That it is not unsuit¬ 
able to this idea, I may refer to the opinion of Tristram 
Shandy, Gent., who remarked in addressing another 
personage, as follows: “ Sir, have not the wisest of men 
in all ages, not excepting Solomon himself—have they 
not had their hobby horses * * * and so long as a 

man rides his hobby horse peaceably and quietly along 
the King’s highway, and neither compels you nor me to 
get up behind him, pray, sir, what have either you or I 
to do with it? De gustibus non est disputandum; that 
is, there is no disputing against hobby 7 horses.” 

The wonderful variety of these steeds of the mind 
strongly 7 excite our curiosity 7 , and it is equally 7 singular 
that few men are allowed to select their own hobby; 
while, on the other hand, there is scarcely an instance 
of a man severing himself by 7 force of principle or medi¬ 
tation, or even argument, from his favorite hobby. 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


3 


Satiety is wholly unknown to a man with a hobby. He 
appears joined to it by nature, like the human and 
equine parts of the fabled centaur. Look at the 
Emperor, Charles the Fifth. Circumstances made him 
a monarch, but nature intended him for a machinist; 
and although he was the hero of sixty pitched battles, 
he worked upon wheels and springs and levers in his 
private shop, and absolutely abdicated the sovereignty 
of Spain, Germany, the New World and the Low 
Countries, or in other words, the most brilliant and 
extensive empire on earth, to regulate the ticking of 
watches in the Monastery of Estremadroua. He 
resigned his throne, but could not cut the acquaintance 
of his hobby. His son Phillip permitted clocks and 
watches to tick as irregularly as they chose and went 
to work with his terrible hobby, to make all men think 
alike on religious subjects. 

The thirty years of war, the loss of the Netherlands 
and the destruction of the Spanish Armada were, how¬ 
ever, an evidence that the Dutch and British people 
held fast to a hobby of their own, and that was to do 
their own thinking and to have an opinion for them¬ 
selves. We often see the questionable hobbies of great 
men redeemed by their glory. Milton had a hobby and 
a sublime one, too—the defense of the rights of man, a 
most successful cultivation of literature, and above all 
the glories of Paradise Lost. He had one or two ques¬ 
tionable hobbies, that did not, however, carry him very 
far, or very fast. One was his proclivity toward 


4. 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


polygamy. But after all he married only three wives— 
that is, one at a time. This is to be considered great 
moderation when compared with the renowned Brigham 
Young, who would have married as many in one 
evening, and not been at all fatigued at the job. 

If any one could have seen Sir Isaac Newton in his 
little homestead, in the act of blowing soap bubbles, he 
would have suspected the philosopher of being mad, or 
at least a trifler. But remember it was these beautifully 
variegated iridescent globules which informed the- eye 
of Newton of the existence of more tints than the most 
vivid landscape reflects. And if the observer had taken 
another look, he would perhaps have seen Newton’s 
real hobby, bearing its master from the soap bubble to 
his calculus, and his fluxions, and triangles, and all the 
abstruse formulas which transported him to the infinite 
depths of the universe, where he ascertained its laws 
and determined that the motions of the stars are the 
pendulums of eternity and beat the ages, as our watches 
do the seconds of time. 

It would be an interesting inquiry whether a hobby 
ever gets into the possession of a man who cannot 
manage it. The fact undoubtedly occurs. We see 
instances in which a man gets more than he bargained 
for. Louis Napoleon sought to establish a personal 
government in France; and he edited an old Roman 
biography of Caius Julius Caesar and republished the 
commentaries of that renowned warrior in six quartos, 
in order to reconcile his countrymen to the empire. But 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


5 


this hobby collapsed at Sedan, while he himself died in 
exile, and the Republic reigns in Paris. 

When a hobby gets unmanageable the consequences 
are tremendous. Witness the Southern Rebellion, which 
originated in the strangest hobby that ever entered 
the brain of a brave and cultured people, viz. : That 
there could not exist a union beyond the borders of 
a state, and that there was no central power to hold the 
parts and preserve the general order. Nothing can 
equal this hobby in its fearful misconception, unless it 
were the blood and ashes through which the nation 
waded to destroy it. 

A man’s circumstances may be so different from the 
nature of his hobby that there would seem to be no hope 
of success. But genius can overcome many obstacles 
and produce the most marvelous results. We know 
that Burns took possession of his pegasus as a hobby 
and they both worked well at the plow in the same field. 
If you doubt the poetic inspiration which vitalized his 
effusions, read the wonderous tale of Tam O’Shanter, or 
the Cotter’s Saturday Night. 

On the other hand, a man’s natural endowments and 
qualifications are often in direct antagonism to the 
success of his hobby. It is related of Demosthenes 
that being short winded, he paid a large sum to a 
celebrated player to teach him how to pronounce long 
sentences in one breath; and that being inclined to 
gaiety and dissipation, he confined himself to a den or 
cave, and shaved half of his head that he might not be 


6 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


allured from his studies by his fondness for pleasure. 
It is also related of him that he lay upon a narrow bed 
that he might awake the sooner; and that as he could 
not pronounce the letter R he repeated it by the hour 
that he might master it if possible. He had an inelegant 
motion of the shoulder when speaking, which he rem¬ 
edied by standing under the point of a sword stuck in 
the ceiling above, that the fear of being pricked by it 
might cure him of the unseemly gesture. And further, 
he had a full length mirror before which he practiced, 
that he might see anything amiss in his adtion and 
corredt it. He was also in the habit of going down to 
the Phalerian shore, that he might become accustomed 
to the noise of the waves and not be daunted by the 
clamors of the people when he spoke in public. And 
yet this ancient Greek, against every conceivable 
disadvantage, became the sublimest orator of antiquity. 
Philip of Macedon declared that the sentences of 
Demosthenes were like soldiers and his harangues like 
armies. The greatness and magnanimity of his soul 
were not less conspicuous in the grandeur of his orations 
than in his fixed and unalterable purpose to succeed. 

Sometimes a man rides his Bucephalus to death. 
Such was the case with Father Miller and the last day 
Ascensionists. The poor man rode his hobby until it 
had no longer a decent leg to stand on, and it went to 
the dogs long before he went to the skies. Brigham 
Young, I think, belongs to the same class, for although 
his hobby has survived the prophet and is still running, 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


7 


I believe it is bound to break down and leave the saints 
without more than a single wife who will respedt them 
or obey them. 

Wealth, honor, renown, the founding of a new family, 
the good and welfare of our race without counting the 
cost, are motives which adtuate many of the representa¬ 
tive persons who have adorned history, such as John 
Howard, the Monks of St. Bernard, Mrs. Fry and 
Florence Nightingale, etc. 

Philanthropy comes next, a noble steed 
Of gentle carriage and of glorious breed, 

Wide o’er the earth his liberal rides extend, 

Men’s general lover, and all nature’s friend. 

But perhaps it may be thought that the inspirations 
to such labors are not popularly called hobbies. They 
however spring from strong affections and high resolves, 
which are the very passions in which reside all positive 
hobbies. 

Hobbies are often nuisances on the common highway 
of opinion and recklessly trample upon other people’s 
ideas. Of these perhaps the mechanical egotist is the 
most intradtable. He gets you by the button-hole and 
flight becomes impossible. He tells you his invention 
is going to throw all the discoveries in the world into 
the shade; and that it is destined to effedt a revolution 
in all the interests of mankind. It is nearly completed. 
There is only an insignificant matter of detail wanting, 
which he is just on the point of supplying, and then it 
will be perfedt. He declares that it will reduce fridtion 


8 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


to the minimum and raise power to the maximum. He 
has perpetual motion on the brain, and you may as well 

‘ ‘ Forbid the sea to obey the moon 
As shake the fabric of his folly.” 

He is probably the wisest man in the world, and will 
tell you more things you don’t understand, and don’t 
want to understand, than any other being alive or dead. 
The steam-engine, the locomotive and the telegraph 
are mere trifles in comparison with his invention, and 
the transmutation of lead into silver, of iron into gold, 
the discovery of the philosopher’s stone which was to 
confer perennial youth, and the elixir which was to 
secure immortal life constitute a mere bagatelle beside 
his universal anti-crank pro-pulley improvement to the 
Keeley motor. He pretends to have invented an 
irreverent piece of mechanism with which he expects to 
open the gates of paradise, and he declares that Col. 
Robert Ingersoll has obligingly assured him that the 
thing will be a success; which is important if true. 

Let us remember, however, that all inventors are not 
egotists, and that the practical inventor has promoted 
more than most men the universal prosperity of man¬ 
kind. Such was Watt with his engine, Fulton with his 
steamboat, Stephenson with his locomotive, Arkwright 
with his power loom, Sir Humphrey Davy with his 
lamp and Morse with his telegraph. These wonderful 
hobbies have not only transported us on the sea and the 
continent, but have proved the greatest boon of civil¬ 
ized life. 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 9 

I 

Indeed, when we look into the subject, it is amazing 
how much the race of human beings is indebted for 
the display of talents and power to these fixed and 
determined predispositions which we call hobbies. 
From them have sprung not only the greatest efforts of 
genius, but the grandest accomplishments in science, 
art and literature. Under their impulse men have 
seized upon some pursuit altogether out of the beaten 
track, and which has been entirely overlooked by the 
steady and deliberate intellect of the age, and have 
discovered both things and relations unthouglit of by 
their more self-possessed contemporaries. Indeed, the 
boldest minds frequently shrink from carrying mere 
theories beyond the point to which they have been 
already successfully applied. But to a man with a 
hobby there is no limit and no impediment. He rides 
up to the precipitous shores which confront each other 
across the Niagara. The current rushes at the rate of 
fifteen miles an hour through the chasm 150 feet below. 
His steed cannot stem that roaring tide; so he constructs 
the longest, the most elevated and massive iron bridge 
then in the world, by which the traveler is now trans¬ 
ported from the United States to Canada West. The 
apparent hopelessness of such a site for the safe and 
rapid passage of so many thousands of tons on going 
and returning trains daily, did not appal the iron nerve 
of the projector. The formidable aspect of the natural 
impediments, and the restricted resources of the 
engineer’s art and skill, only stimulated his ingenuity. 


10 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


By scientific dedu< 5 lions and practical tests he projected 
into the atmosphere a series of rectangular beams of 
iron, which have not only bridged the dangerous gorge 
of the Niagara, but rendered accessible the difficult 
passages of every other country. 

The literary hobby is a wonderful combination of 
goose quill and attenuated vapor. One of the unfortunate 
characteristics of the times is a desire, on the part of a 
great number of persons, to acquire fame in the republic 
of letters, who are clearly not endowed by nature for a 
literary career. To excel in the intellectual part of 
letters requires genius, heart, research, speculation, 
vivid portraiture and witty extravagance. It is to be 
regretted that we are compelled to say that there is a 
large class of writers who have very little of these 
qualifications. It is astonishing that their works should 
be called for. There are comic authors who make us 
sad, and tragic ones who make us laugh. The exuber¬ 
ance of authors is now and then a disease, not a hobby. 
A Spanish author wrote three times as many pages as 
the number of days he had lived; and we hear of 
another who did not begin to write till he was married, 
and then produced a popular work every twelve months, 
thus keeping pace with the increase of his family. He 
was extremely chagrined when at the annual period his 
wife brought forth twins; for by no efforts could the 
offspring of his brain keep pace with the vigor of his 
body. 

The fast young man’s hobby is a fearful steed. He 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


11 


goes to see the world at an age when he can bear it 
least, and comes back but the semblance of the being 
he was in his pride. He bears the stamp of one who in 
the olden time is reported to have beheld a supernatural 
existence, and after the awful and gloomy interview 
shrivelled up into the similitude of the phantom he had 
accosted. If the powers of the evil eye had swept over 
him with its baleful glance, it could not have left him a 
more hapless looking creature than he now stands, while 
yet in the morning of life. All impressions of the 
journey he has made are effaced, like foot-marks on the 
sandy desert or tidal shore. The common sailor can 
describe the strange promontories he has sailed past 
and fit his narrative up with the interest we feel in 
unknown races and unusual habits. A soldier can 
fight his battles over again without missing a shot that 
was fired; but this fast man who went forth to explore 
the world can form no continuous narrative of the days 
he has turned into night, nor of the nights he has 
turned into day. There was no diary of what transpired 
where wine flowed and dice rattled, no record of the 
depressions that made life worse than death, nor of the 
exultations which made it only a maddening joy to live. 
No cheerful reminiscences of friends that were true, and 
of loves that left as much happiness when apart as when 
they were together. He is like the ocean of sand that 
retains no foot-print. He can call to mind no plan of 
his life, no aim of his effort, nor any theses which he 
accepts, nor opinion he has discovered. Before he has 


12 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


reached midway to three-score and ten he is an old man 
and shipwrecked. The hours that make men, if they 
are ever made, have taught him nothing and have 
learned nothing from him. Others in the meantime 
who started with him have become the leaders, the 
poets, the orators, the inventors and statesmen of the 
times, and are enrolled in history, and perhaps in regard 
to the more fortunate of them all, their course has been 
in a zodiac of intellectual splendors, while he is as 
obscure as if he had never been born, or had written his 
name on water. But let this fearful dragon pass out of 
our sight, a warning and a beacon on the pathway to 
perdition. 

The records of men’s lives reveal instances where 
hobbies assume the outward guise of monomania. Lord 
Macaulay and Dr. Johnson, two of the greatest masters 
of our tongue, and the most irrepressible talkers of the 
English language were reduced to silence by the 
presence of certain persons to whom they had conceived 
an aversion. Macaulay was generally taciturn until 
the object of his antipathy was clean out of sight. 
Johnson mostly kept up a continual growl until he 
could get an opportunity to overwhelm the guest he 
disliked with a furious torrent of controversy. In a 
majority of cases there was no foundation for the uncon¬ 
querable repulsion these two great men experienced 
toward individuals—sometimes the historian overcame 
his aversions, the doctor never. He said that he liked a 
good hater, and he assuredly lived up to this standard 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


13 


of one of his virtues. Coleridge, who was perhaps a 
greater genius, although a less accurate scholar, than 
either of them, was made uncomfortable by the intro¬ 
duction of the names of persons who were dead and 
who had been distinguished when alive. He had 
antipathies against departed philosophers and moralists. 
He entertained a personal hatred of Sidney Smith, 
whom he knew only by report. The same unappeasable 
enmity possessed him against various statesmen long in 
their graves. But in him there was an amiable offset 
to all this acrimony; for he elevated second-rate men 
from their dust and obscurity and lavished upon them 
his admiration. Eavater’s strange theories as to the 
significance of forms and features, caused him the 
greatest pain when in the presence of persons whose 
outward ugliness stamped them as objects which weak¬ 
ened his dodtrine of physiognomy. The presence of 
such persons filled him with horror. Arago, the greatest 
of French astronomers, would not enter a lunatic asy¬ 
lum, believing that insanity was contagious. Euther 
believed he had conferences with the devil, and Socrates 
thought he was constantly haunted by a familiar spirit 
or demon. 

A delusion sometimes gets upon a man’s hobby and 
displays immense energy. Mahomet is a striking 
example. He affirmed that his revelations were of 
divine authority. The nature of his visions, says a 
medical authority, were of that kind which experience 
shows to be incident to epilepsy—a disease not recognized 


14 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


in his day, but well known in ours. Similar visions 
occur not unfrequently to epileptic patients now, and 
they are believed in as realities and truths long after the 
distemper has passed away. Mahomet never doubted 
the reality of the visions which he saw in these trance 
conditions, and he took advantage of them to obtain 
for himself the divine reputation of a prophet. We 
should bear in mind that we ought not to give credit to 
any man’s pretensions when they transcend the reach 
of reason and common sense. If the followers of Joe 
Smith and Brigham Young had appreciated this lesson, 
they would not have become the dupes of the vilest 
imposture of this or any other age, and a disgraceful blot 
upon civilized life. 

There are remarkable instances where a hobby of a 
single individual has become a general trait of national 
character. We know that the German races are coldly 
thinking in their mental life, and have an honest love 
of fact and a steady pursuit of it. Their wonderful 
literature reveals their utilitarian bent and sleepless 
industry. Yet from this race, which acknowledges a 
phlegmatic temperament, sprung the most impossible of 
all poems—the Faust of Goethe—a poem that turns 
upon feats performed by a personal devil. It is true 
that the poets of other nations have written songs equally 
extravagant and not less impious. But no other portion 
of mankind has ever proclaimed such a work the sub- 
limest of all intellectual performances. The question 
occurs, why should a tale of the black art recommend 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


15 


itself to one who has been called by his countrymen the 
most philosophic poet since Shakespeare; and why 
should the staid German people make a highly wrought 
tale of diabolism the text book of sublimity? And yet 
it is most true that the German poet has engrafted upon 
the minds of his countrymen a tale with all the impossi¬ 
bilities of Paradise Lost, with tenfold its indecencies, few 
of its sublimities, and on a far lower range of feeling 
and conception throughout. Perhaps Goethe is indebted 
for this inordinate admiration as a poet, to the circum¬ 
stance that previous to his day, although Germany had 
produced great men, she never had a poet that could 
compare with a second- or third-rate English poet, and 
scarcely one whose name is known outside of the 
Fatherland, except Schiller, who of all the German poets 
is the best. I will, although able to make comparisons 
through the medium of translations only, venture the 
assertion that we have many poets in our own language 
that are greatly the superior of both. 

But the Germans are not the only people who are 
distinguished by national traits. The high head of the 
Norman, the round head of the Gael, the square head 
of the Saxon and the oval head of the Cymric are not 
more conspicuous than the spiritual and mental 
idiosyncrasies of the races to which they belong. Nor¬ 
man pride, Saxon vigor and Celtic sentimentalism are 
the historical types by which they are distinguished as 
races, as well as by their physical marks. The German 
is patient and plodding, the Frenchman artistic and 


16 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


polite, the Englishman is solid, and his aggressive 
tendency has added to the dominions of the Queen he 
venerates, nations and empires that belt the globe. He 
is certainly the most unique and wonderful specimen of 
the race that has yet appeared in history. The Scotch¬ 
man understands the mysteries of Scotch snuff and the 
haggis. In matters of religion and politics he is most 
liberal and tolerant to every opinion that exactly agrees 
with his own, and he is most easily led by other people, 
provided he has his own way, and he has an excellent 
opinion of his own opinion. Of course, I would not 
permit anybody to abuse the Scotch but myself. 

When an Irishman is in good humor you can get 
from him more wit, sudden and dexterous terms of 
expression and impromptus, than any nation can equal. 
An Irish boy being asked at the examination of his 
class which were the four seasons of the year, and not 
being very well posted on the subjedt, but determined 
not to be without an answer, responded, pepper, mustard, 
whiskey and tomato catsup. Sir Boyles Roche was per¬ 
haps the finest example of an Irish bull that ever spoke 
in public. He was at one time a member of the Com¬ 
mons House of Parliament. Ireland was in a very 
disturbed condition, owing to the rising of the White 
Boys and other associations of like character. The 
subjedt under debate was the temporary suspension of 
the writ of habeas corpus in that country until the 
disorders were suppressed. Sir Boyles delivered himself 
of the following series of bulls, which kept the house in 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


17 


a perpetual roar. He began thus, “Mr. Speaker, such 
is my reverence for the British Constitution that I would 
be willing to sacrifice the one half of it, for the sake of 
preserving the balance; and indeed I think my patriotism 
could rise to that pitch, that I would be willing to 
sacrifice the whole of it out of respedt for an emergency. 
I never rise to address the House that I do not feel like 
turning my back upon myself. I never open my mouth 
but I put my fut in it.” But perhaps I have dwelt 
long enough on national traits, and the hobbies that 
grow out of them. 

When genius and industry are wedded by science 
to a hobby, the grandest results have been accom¬ 
plished. A clear case of this kind presents itself in 
the career of the illustrious Humboldt. His posi¬ 
tion in life was far from rendering necessary to his 
wants or prospects the enormous labors he underwent 
in every branch of discovery. He was less in want of 
the rewards due to his investigations and travels, than 
the world was in jwant of his explorations and philo¬ 
sophic scrutiny. Humboldt was endowed with what is 
mostly called energy. In his case it was that species of 
energy which results from steadiness and honesty 
combined—a freedom from whim, flightiness, or per¬ 
verseness, with a patient fidelity to nature; in a word, 
he was the embodied spirit of science itself. He 
appeared to combine all the valuable elements of the 
Teutonic character, and from the dead level and home¬ 
liness of German life he became the most capacious and 


IS 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


useful commentator and critic that ever analyzed the 
great volume of nature. Nothing escaped his scrutiny. 
From the laws of the air currents and the flow of the 
gigantic American rivers; from the height of the 
unexplored Andes to the plants and insedts on their 
slopes, the whole physical geography of that vast region ; 
the aboriginal tongues, the flora, the fauna and meteor¬ 
ology of the southern continent; all were analyzed 
piecemeal by this German observer, and form no minor 
part of his glorious Kosmos. In truth, the execution of 
such a work would be the occupation of an ordinary 
lifetime, without personally gleaning its materials in so 
many zones. Laplace, to construct his mechanism of the 
heavens, had the observations of all preceding gener¬ 
ations—Humboldt relied upon his own. 

This is an example of a great and successful passion 
among the hobbies of mankind, striding from continent 
to continent on the unoccupied expanses of the New 
World, over desert waters which no sail had whitened, 
across mountains upon which the clouds alone reposed, 
and bringing back some treasure of science and discovery 
from every plain, torrent and mountain height that 
yielded him a footstep. 

The genealogical hobby is striking into the Ameri¬ 
can fancy at a great pace. It is for some men an 
unfortunate provision of nature that they cannot deny 
having had fathers at all. They, however, content 
themselves with denying the paternal occupations, and 
sometimes their nationality. There are some families 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


19 


that claim descent from Pocahontas, the daughter of 
Powhatan, which at least has the merit of being a 
domestic sort of American pride. But these cruel 
antiquarians have proved that Pocahontas is an entire 
misconception—a mere effigy; and that her offspring 
became extindl before she became extindl herself, so 
that that means of founding a pedigree is utterly ruined. 
If she had only left a sister or a brother, or even a 
mother-in-law, there would have been a peg for the F. 
F. V.’s, upon which to hang a few generations back. 
But she was so thoughtless that she even omitted to sit for 
her picture, so the whole thing has gone by the board. 

In this country the aristocracy of birth is about as 
old as a modern photograph. No individual history 
need pre-date our own national existence. Any family 
that can trace itself back to the American Revolution 
is descended from one of the greatest epochs in the 
history of the world, and the birthday of our nation was 
glorious enough to stand sponsor for our liberties and 
our ancestors. A portrait of a progenitor in the old 
continental uniform, with a cocked hat and yellow 
buckskin breeches, is the best pedigree one can have in 
this land of universal suffrage. I can appreciate the 
reverence which any one may feel for a great-grandfather 
who fell fighting against George the Third, at Bunker 
Hill, for I, too, had an ancestor who fell fighting against 
George the Second, on the blood-stained battlefield of 
Culloden. But when families grow grand and super¬ 
cilious upon shoddy contra fits, it is to be feared that 


20 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


they will have to look further back than the Garden of 
Eden for a first father and mother who will acknowledge 
them. Let us hope that the pre-Adamic man geologists 
are in search of will turn up, or be turned up, on this 
continent, so that we can all derive our generations 
from a purely American parent who has been petrified 
and preserved for our personal love and veneration. 

An American banker a few years ago made all the 
world stare by refusing to be trotted out for the 
remainder of his days as Sir George Peabody, Baronet. 
Hereditary pride is a singular sentiment and as para¬ 
doxical as old Theleusson’s will, which left a few inter¬ 
mediate generations to starve, in order that his property 
might accumulate to an imperial revenue at the end of 
a certain period. Some people who cannot ascertain 
what family they came from tack themselves on to the 
most available genealogical tree at hand, and their 
children grow up to honor a line of aliens as their own. 
The trite reason is, that no pride is more honorable 
than that of being descended from a long line of brave 
and worthy progenitors. If the ascertained line is a 
long one, the number of ancestors must be in proportion ; 
and it is astonishing to consider the number of lineal 
ancestors which every man has within no very great 
number of degrees. In the first degree he has two, the 
authors of his being; in the second four, the parents of 
his father and mother; and by the same rule of progres¬ 
sion, he has, or rather there were for his production, a 
thousand and twenty-four in the tenth generation before 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


21 


his birth, so that anybody alive today, should, if endowed 
with proper family pride, do homage to the virtues of 
something over a million of ancestors who preceded him 
only twenty generations, or 650 years ago—say about 
the time of King John and the Magna Charta. In a 
late address to the members of the British Association, 
Mr. Gave showed that even supposing that none of their 
progenitors intermarried with relatives, each person had, 
at the period of the Norman Conquest in 1066, or just 
800 years ago, upwards of a hundred millions of direct 
ancestors at that time. To be sure there were none of 
us then created, but our early ancestors were, and we 
have to bear part in the reproaches, as well as the 
honors, a few hundred thousand persons may have had. 

There are many instances when a man’s hobby is 
stronger than his reason or his judgment. It influences 
his conduct in a way wholly inconsistent with his rela¬ 
tions in life and contrary to the dictates of prudence and 
self-interest. The late Mr. St. Clair, of England, was 
an example of this morbid impulse. His name was a 
good one—quite romantic, euphoneous and time hon¬ 
ored. Nevertheless he had it changed from St. Clair to 
that of Smithson, which was a respectable name enough, 
and the family appellation of the Duke of Northumber¬ 
land, but almost parvenu in comparison with the flowing 
and seini-Norman style of his own. He then offered 
for sale all his family pictures and the portraits of his 
ancestors, acknowledged to be original paintings by Sir 
Godfrey Kneller, Van Dyke, Sir Peter Lily, Holbien, 


99 

Si si 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


Sir Joshua Reynolds and other court painters ; and with 
a wilder iconoclasm than was ever displayed toward the 
old cathedrals and saints preserved in stone, Mr. St. 
Clair took all the bas-reliefs which bore either his name 
or device, every model, armorial bearing and image, 
and caused them to be melted down and sold to the bell- 
maker for old brass. After indulging in these unique 
crotchets he converted everything he had into money, 
abjured the Christian religion, became a Mahommedan 
and a naturalized Turk, and then aspired to be a vizier, 
as a stepping-stone to a Pashalic. Here is a man with 
a hobby that made him desirous of getting rid of all the 
identities of his life and of all the identities which had 
preceded him in natural order for generations, and to 
scorn the blood and lineage which are the deepest in¬ 
stincts of our social nature. 

Some of these phases of the human mind might be 
entitled the superior or ornamental hobbies of mankind. 
One of these fantasies is found in the ambition of having 
a piClure gallery. This is a specialty of retired bankers, 
auctioneers and railroad magnates. It is said that some 
galleries of hereditary pictures abroad belonged origin¬ 
ally to founders who became extinCt, or who, getting 
ruined in the course of events, sent the founders of 
their home to the hammer, to be purchased perhaps by 
the very persons who had already absorbed the bulk of 
their possessions. Many of the ruffled and long bod- 
iced beauties in whom the spectator is expeCted to find 
a strong family resemblance would sooner have taken 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


23 


arsenic when alive than have eaten their salt; and these 
ladies who may have stood in a feudal state of variance, 
like the Montagues with their neighbors, now smile 
upon their new proprietors as one of the hostile Capulets. 

A very great philosopher said that the man who 
believed himself descended from good and wise fore¬ 
fathers gave hostage to society for his own conduct. 
This view of the question is reasonable enough. Mr.. 
St. Clair’s pictures were purchased, for instance, by 
Mr. Dobbs, the retired ship-chandler, or by the heavy 
opium dealer. The works were not lost to art by losing 
the name of St. Clair and rejoicing in the pseudonym of 
Dobbs. Ariadne St. Clair would be as beautiful and 
valuable as a work of art when shown to visitors in the 
Dobbs mansion under the name of Margery Dobbs, as 
if she were the daughter of a nobleman. 

The social potentates of our model republic scorn a 
surreptitious picture among the worthies of their line in 
sombre shades and antique frames. They would as 
soon kidnap a man’s living relatives as to parade any 
stranger likeness among their family heir-looms. The 
steps to be taken are of a more ingenious stamp. Sup¬ 
pose, for instance, that the fortune is made and the man¬ 
sion established in Fifth Avenue, and the family well 
provided for; now for the generation before. If the 
great men of the race are supposed to average three in 
a century, or one every thirty odd years, a dozen pictures 
will take us back to the days of Richard the Third and 
his murdered nephews in the Tower of London. Noth- 


24 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


ing is better known than this historical period. A 
family must be truly the proper sort of thing if it had 
ancestors who figured in the days of “Off with his head— 
so much for Buckingham,” and which terminated with, 
“ My horse, my horse, my kingdom for a horse.” These 
things we are all aware never happened, and we are 
very sure that Shakespeare never wrote them, as they 
were interpolated by Colley Cibber; but then, people of 
good family must do a great many conventional things ; 
indeed, they must entertain conventional convictions 
upon more serious matters than Plantaganet tyrants. So 
an order is sent to an agent for furnishing family 
picture galleries. In London the leading man in this 
line used to be a Mr. Vestal; all he requires is a Brady 
photograph of one of the family who has its most char¬ 
acteristic features well developed, with a description of 
their average height, male and female. The number 
of the illustrious ancestors is also necessary, and how 
many of each sex, with the period of their earliest exist¬ 
ence. In three months the punctual Mr. Vestal returns 
the applicant his pedigree in all the colors of the rain¬ 
bow, beginning with the soft, peachy tints of Sir 
Thomas Lawrence and ending at the War of the Roses, 
with profound shadows and almost undecipherable 
features, conveying an expression fearful to behold. 
These were in the shop when the order was received— 
armour, robes, gold chains, ermine, swords and plumed 
hats or wigs, but none of them had any faces, this 
portion of the human frame being left blank upon the 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


25 


canvas, to be filled up with the style of physiognomy 
indicated by the first customer’s photograph. A set of 
these ancients are put up—half statesmen, half warriors, 
the ladies half matrons and half in a virgin state. 
Verily, a man is not only the architect of his own 
fortune, but the architect of his own forefathers. Some¬ 
times this sort of thing leads to a great row. Not long 
since, an American statesman, originally a tanner and 
currier, had his own head painted on the body of Sir 
Robert Peel, as a motto or business trade mark. An 
ungrammatical and agrarian sentence was inserted in 
the margin. The prints found their way to England 
and were displayed in a respectable bookseller’s shop 
in London. Young Peel, the son of Sir Fvobert, was in 
those days noted for impetuosity, and conceived that 
the man was vending caricatures of his father. He 
asked the bookseller to look at one, and when he had 
read the sentence, which was really a morsel of bun¬ 
combe uttered in Congress, what, between the hideous 
face on the canvas on the top of his father’s body and 
the ridiculous sentence at the foot of it, he flew into 
a violent passion, broke the pidture over the poor 
man’s head, and threw a large pile of them into the 
street. 

A great many family galleries are closed of late to 
strangers, especially to artists who copy antiques, and 
it is alleged by their possessors, either through affecta¬ 
tion or insolence, that so many parvenus in Australia 
have made free with their ancestors that they expedt 


26 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


some son of a convidt will before long bring an ejedtment 
suit against their estates. 

It is true that the art of design has given countenance 
to astounding frauds. Archaeologists and antiquarians 
have unconsciously sworn to the authenticity of tomb 
stones which had been executed within the current year, 
and occasionally a good judge purchases at fabulous sums 
an undoubted original of one of the ancient masters, 
which had only been fabricated long enough to be dry. 

Nor has history escaped fabrications from spurious 
memorials of the brush and graver. It was Mr. Pres¬ 
cott who observed in an eulogium upon Daguerre that 
‘ ‘ his invention w r ould never be used to corroborate 
historical lies.” The art nevertheless will effedl its 
share of both good and evil. Drawing and painting 
have ceased to be mere accomplishments and are now 
acknowledged branches of the higher education. They 
teach accuracy, comparison relatively, and bring the 
mind into contact w T ith forms of grace and beauty, 
and either colorless or tinted these forms cannot fail to 
elevate and purify the conceptions. 

It appears to be the exercise of these unregulated 
energies that not unfrequently transport the philosopher, 
the politician and the reformer, in placing their wrong¬ 
headed and visionary conceptions before the world. 

Sir Walter Scott has shrewdly remarked that the 
only difference between the two states of dreaming and 
insanity, is, that in dreams the horses run awa}' with 
the coach whilst the driver is asleep; in lunacy the 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


27 


runaway takes place whilst the coachman is drunk. 
So where there is a predetermined predominating trait 
in man or woman, unless a strict watch is kept on the 
reins it will run off with them as if they were in a fit of 
madness. Such was the case of Madame Drusmond, 
better known by her maiden name of Frances Gore 
Wright. She was of excellent family and endowed 
with uncommon gifts. Mistress of several modern 
languages, a practical knowledge of Latin, and every 
branch of history, profane, political and sacred, her 
perceptions were quick, her memory retentive and her 
love of study remarkable from her earliest childhood. 
As a writer she displayed wonderful power, and as a 
speaker an eloquence rarely given to the most masculine. 
Indeed, it is painful to enumerate the endowments and 
acquirements which this strange woman threw away, for 
she became the self-constituted propagandist of the most 
deleterious views. And yet those who knew her best 
were at a loss to conjecture from what source she 
imbibed her profound scepticism. She read the works 
of Mary Woolstoncraft, but so had thousands of other 
women who admired their sharpness, decision and 
admirable pictures of current society. She despised 
Voltaire, hated Condorcet, Diderot and the whole school 
of the French encyclopedists, sneered at the superficialities 
of Thomas Paine and regarded them all as enemies to 
the progress of civilization, while she esteemed her own 
licentious tenets as the bulwark and champion of social 
order. Moreover, she was preeminently ladylike and 


28 THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 

refined in company and her conversational powers were 
not excelled by those of Madame DeStael; and yet the 
moment she addressed an audience, she became inspired 
by an impetuous eloquence, abounding in defiant apos¬ 
trophe and exuberant with wild invocations, and she 
was never more eager or highly wrought than when 
attacking revealed religion, or the institution of marriage. 
The statement of her views was clearly and pointedly 
made and revealed many glimpses of truth, but the 
whole superstructure of her argument, deduction and 
consequence, was vicious and imaginative. I cite her 
as one whose hobby had wandered through crotchety 
by-ways into the open path of unbelief, if not insanity, 
for if she aspired to anything it was to be considered 
the most pronounced female infidel that ever landed 
upon our shores. Indeed it is difficult to realize that 
the last two examples which I have mentioned did not 
spring from a habit of mental abstraction and reverie, 
which at last unsettled the judicial powers of the mind 
and then reduced it to a condition where it lost the 
discriminating faculty which accompanies cerebral 
deterioration. Such examples teach that neither men 
nor women should indulge in a species of rapt medita¬ 
tion, which leads inevitably to a state of mind that is 
almost analogous to mental aberration ; and instead of 
plunging into new and fantastic habits, or starting 
systems of belief, we should consult those who are 
qualified to resolve our doubts or explain our difficulties. 
This lesson is addressed with particular force to the 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


29 


young and immature, but may be pondered with benefit 
by children of a larger growth. 

The same tendency to hobbies is observable in 
persons who are not specially gifted by nature with 
either genius or talent, and among persons not above 
the average intelligence. A man of ordinary capacity 
possessed of a hobby has usually a strange and peculiar 
way of observation. His thoughts do not run in the 
commonplace and conventional order. He is distin¬ 
guished for originality and perhaps eccentricity, and 
his common conversation has a dash and sprightliness 
which engages attention. He influences those around 
him much more than he is influenced by them, and is a 
marked man in every period of his life. He has an 
aptitude for talking, especially on his favorite subjects, 
which others of equal and even of greater gifts can 
never exercise, for want of his inspiration. If his sur¬ 
roundings are favorable to his pet problems, he is in his 
glory, and his feelings and imagination are emanci¬ 
pated. If you listen to him now for the first time you 
will be interested and perhaps instructed. If his hobby 
takes an aesthetic turn he will display artistic knowledge 
and taste that will induce you to believe he is gifted 
with rare skill and experience. If his special theme is 
literature or poetry, his ideas and feelings take the color 
of high wrought sentiment, and he evolves thoughts 
from his favorite authors that will surprise you as being 
something new. If he adheres to a dogma in religion, 
it usually constitutes the entire faith and duty of man, 


30 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


and he swings upon that dogma as the whole compass 
of belief. On the other hand it sometimes seizes upon 
a singularly vivid imagination which it carries through 
all sorts of excitement. Hence the invention of the 
modern sensational novel and emotional plays, with all 
their murders, bigamies and extravagant mischiefs. 
But when the man retains full possession of his senses 
and is free from any extravagance, and adopts more 
general and practical views, he exhibits the same energy 
in their propagation and becomes a reformer and perhaps 
a benefactor of the race. That persons are sincere in 
their wildest exhibitions of their peculiar theories is 
undeniable, for they abandon almost everything that 
the world holds desirable to enlarge the field of unpop¬ 
ular, odious doCtrine. In placing themselves in an 
antagonistic position to society they often abandon the 
very social advantages that men usually propitiate it to 
obtain. It would appear that a long period of medita¬ 
tion has generally preceded the development of these 
chimeras. It is also no less apparent that this state of 
reverie, or of daydreaming, presents many features which 
are analogous to that of mental aberration. Except 
that we are conscious of abandoning the fancy to its own 
will, the meditative condition differs but little from that 
of dreaming, and an indulgence in this habit tends to 
emasculate the mind. Men wrap themselves in specu¬ 
lations which afford the mind no foothold and the result 
is a cerebral deterioration. In fine, whilst placing their 
crotchety conceptions before the world, the contest with 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


31 


it arouses their faculties to a more healthy state than 
they possessed whilst elaborating their ideas. They 
are actually more sane when talking nonsense than they 
were when only thinking it. This reverie is the pro¬ 
cess of germinating through which an imperfect state of 
knowledge is ripened into visionary systems. After all, 
the difference between dreaming and insanity is so little 
that it has been more successfully defined by men of 
letters than by pathologists. Cicero says that if it had 
been so ordered by nature that we should do in sleep all 
that we dream of doing, every man would have to be 
bound down before going to bed. Do not some of the 
fantastic theories which are not without advocates show 
the same want of a sense of the fitness of things which 
characterize a dream? The most incongruous images, 
the oddest combinations of circumstances, the strangest 
persons present themselves before us at such times and 
pass unchallenged. The discriminating power is in 
abeyance, and the faculty of wonder remains no longer 
dormant. It appears to be in the exercise of these irreg¬ 
ular energies which not unfrequently hurry the would- 
be reformer into experiments the most injurious to 
society. I have dwelt upon this habit of reverie, or 
intent day dreaming about abstractions, because it is 
the predominant trait of men who have admirers and 
proselytes for the time being, and who, in spite of 
enthusiasm, eloquence and hardihood, are supposed to 
be several degrees more unsound than the state desig¬ 
nated as having a bee in the bonnet. 


32 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


We are reminded of the words by Disraeli, in the 
mouth of one of his characters. “I have sometimes,” 
he says, “half believed, though the suspicion is morti¬ 
fying, that there is only a step between the state of one 
who deeply indulges in imaginative meditation and 
insanity; for I well remember when I indulged in med¬ 
itation to an extreme degree that my senses appeared 
sometimes wandering. It would be needless to mention 
all the peculiar feelings I then experienced, but I think 
I was not always assured of my identity, or even 
existence, for I found it necessary to shout aloud to be 
sure that I lived, and I was in the habit very often at 
night of taking down a volume and looking into it for 
my name, to be convinced that I had not been dreaming 
of myself.” 

The inquiry is now presented, from whence comes 
this universal addiction to hobbies, and how can we 
account for their incredible variety and tenacity of pur¬ 
pose. I am quite sure that any speculations upon the 
principle of this inquiry would prove discouragingly 
vague and unsatisfactory. We see in the hobbies of 
men the most determined inclinations, as a thing apart 
in many cases from education or example. They are 
developed without any uniformity, and are therefore 
utterly incapable of classification. In a thousand 
instances they are brought into the most vivid relief 
among the votaries of science, literature, art and inven¬ 
tion. They are of the most unequal influence, sometimes 
seizing upon unlettered men, leading them into strange 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


33 


habits of thought and action, while on the other hand 
the most adventurous thinkers and greatest scholars are 
carried away by their uncontrollable impulses, bringing 
forth works crowned with the fruits of patience and 
research. 

We call these hobbies an original bent of the mind, 
an invincible mark of our spiritual nature. A man is 
known by his hobby as well as by his face. Both of 
them may be attractive or repulsive. The horses of 
Apollo were only visible by daylight. Our hobbies 
should alwa}^s be able to bear the broadest day and to 
appear best in the brightest light. Some hobbies rise 
with their riders to the clouds, and we lose sight of them; 
but ours should only float upon the vital air to obtain 
wider and freer views. 

We should not murmur if our hobby is not a lion, 
for let us remember that an ass may be laden with 
gold, and do not be discouraged if it is wild and way¬ 
ward, for the wildest beasts can be tamed and made 
useful by industrjr. In a word, our subject teaches the 
inestimable value of having a purpose and an aim 
through life, and to earnestly pursue it as if we had a 
destiny to fulfill. We can all recall within our own 
observation the history of many persons starting out in 
life with about equal chances and equal advantages, 
but who separated at the outset — some to success, 
influence and honor, and the others to disappointment, 
obscurity and despair. Now why this difference in the 
career of persons so similarly situated at the beginning ? 

3 


34 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


It was the absence of a stern and methodic purpose in 
the case of those who failed, and the cultivation of 
habits of patient thought and faithful enterprise on the 
part of those who were successful. The one had pur¬ 
pose, the other had no purpose. The leading feature 
of all hobbies is faith and confidence. Faith works 
wonders. It is akin to power and strength. It pointed 
the spear of Achilles, and the ambition of Napoleon. 
It made Socrates sublime, and enabled Christopher 
Columbus to find a path in the unknown waters. We 
know, however, that the qualities of confidence, faith, 
courage and enterprise are as often elements of evil as 
of good. When they are accompanied by personal 
accomplishments and generous impulses they are meet 
for a field of the widest usefulness. While, therefore, 
nature has designed that we should stick to our hobby, 
it is only upon condition that it is under the moral disci¬ 
pline of reason and a firm and indomitable control of a 
virtuous resolution. 

This is emphasized as an age of fast living and 
material aggrandizement, and it is undeniable that 
riches, power and a good reception in the world are the 
great objects of pursuit, and people are wearying their 
souls in the vain competition, and are vexed with the 
thought that they are throwing their energies away for 
want of something better in their mental life. We now 
and then see an individual who is sorely afflicted because 
he has not been sent to Congress, or his soul is filled 
with ill will because some one else has obtained the 


THE HOBBIES OF MEN. 


35 


prize who firmly resolved that it should be done. A 
man misses or loses a fortune without thinking of the 
riches he has within, and which fortune can never 
bestow, and his self-love is wounded because he has 
never learned the eternal lesson of enlarging his views 
beyond himself. The intuitive faculties of men, which 
we call hobbies, constitute a moral phenomenon which if 
properly regulated may yet be the means of bringing 
men into all those activities for which they are best 
adapted. They are, moreover, self-enduring and pro¬ 
ductive as Promethean fire and will live forever, co-ex- 
tensive with all habitable space and co-eternal with the 
mind of man. 


THE THREE CAVALIERS; 

OR 

A REMINISCENCE OF SCOTTISH HISTORY. 


Thk principal figure in an historical picture often 
derives additional lustre from the supplemental groups 
that surround it. So in an historical narrative the 
prominent and central personages and events cannot 
fasten attention without some allusion to many other 
occurrences of the period to which it relates, as well as 
to the actors who were its contemporary accessories. 
Many of these . subordinate groups are in themselves 
masterpieces when cut from the canvas or perused alone. 
Among such figures of an ancient epoch, none are more 
deeply and sharply etched than those of Sir William 
Kirkaldy, of Grange, William Maitland, of Lethington, 
commonly known by the latter name, and Norman Leslie, 
Master of Rothes. 

A life so full of exploits as that of Sir William 
Kirkaldy, of Grange, would occupy a volume if given 
in detail. I shall not, however, attempt a broad histor¬ 
ical delineation, for the scope of this paper will permit 
us to glance only at a few of the subordinate achieve¬ 
ments which marked his wonderful and brilliant career. 



THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


37 


His father, Sir James Kirkaldy, Laird of Grange, was 
eminent before him. He had been Lord High Treasurer 
under James the Fifth, and although a firm promoter of 
the Reformation in Scotland, maintained his position 
and his influence with the King, who was still devoted 
to the ancient faith. His brother-in-law, Sir James 
Melville, informs us that it was not safe or even com¬ 
fortable to discuss points temporal or religious with the 
Laird. It appears that the courtiers had some tales to 
tell, and, as he says, waited an opportunity when the 
Treasurer should be absent, “who was a stout, bold 
man, therefore they darest not speak out in his presence, 
for he always offered by single combat and point of 
sword to maintain what he spoke, and had an English 
New Testament in his pouch.” 

The first incident in the life of young Kirkaldy 
that history has preserved was one of the most san¬ 
guinary schemes even in that age of turbulence and 
bloodshed. It was a conspiracy to capture the castle of 
St. Andrews and to take the life of Cardinal Beaton, then 
the most powerful man in Scotland. At the death-bed 
of James the Fifth, the two Kirkaldys, father and son, and 
their implacable enemy, Lord Cardinal Beaton, heard 
his last words: “The crown came wi’ a lass, it will 
gang wi’ a lass.” And the Cardinal is declared to 
have forged a will for the King which appointed himself 
principal Regent of the kingdom during the minority of 
his infant daughter, who was born two days previously 
to his demise. Being thus invested with authority the 


3S 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


Cardinal at once commenced a furious persecution of 
the Protestants ; for the Reformation had reached the 
remotest solitudes of Scotland, and its preachers were 
making rapid progress. Some were executed, some 
were banished for alleged heresy; many were punished 
for reading the New Testament, and several were exe¬ 
cuted for refusing to pray to the Virgin Mary ; and five 
persons were put to death on suspicion that they had 
eaten a goose on Friday. George Wishart was conspic¬ 
uous among these early martyrs and was burnt by the 
orders of the Cardinal, who, from the windows of his 
palace at St. Andrews, witnessed his sufferings at the 
stake. His prophetic exclamation is well known, that 
the proud Cardinal would himself, within a few days, 
hang from that very window a blood-stained and ghastly 
victim of his own cruelties. These terrible murders 
and persecutions roused the nation into a fury of 
indignation. In addition to these public murmurs the 
Kirkaldys had a private grievance. Old Kirkaldy had 
been dismissed from his office of Lord High Treasurer 
of Scotland. The Cardinal had avowed himself the 
author of this step. It was one that the stout old 
knight was not likely to forget, and naturally his son 
made it his own special quarrel. It happened that 
Norman Leslie, the most intractable and fiery spirit in 
all Scotland, sent word to young Kirkaldy that he had 
just had a violent quarrel with the Lord Cardinal, who 
had abused his confidence and insulted him for his 
youth, and he wished his assistance to take the castle 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


39 


of St. Andrews out of hand and put the haughty 
prelate to death. Kirkaldy responded that he would 
come and see that the Bishop had his just deserts, and 
that he meant to hold the castle on their own account 
after the deed was done. 

To understand the transcendent coolness of this 
enterprise it must be borne in mind that these two allies 
were not only mere beardless youths, but that the Car¬ 
dinal was Chancellor of Scotland and Regent for the 
infant Queen Mary. He was the richest and most 
important public man, and the Episcopal seat at St. 
Andrews was one of the strongest castles in the kingdom. 
He was the head and pillar of his party, determined, 
cruel, avaricious and luxurious. He was aware of the 
indignation and the factions arrayed' against him, and 
he had long met the stern and sturdy Barons with as 
bold a front as their own, and had generally carried off 
the palm in all their sanguinary schemes, that were 
called the “bloody chicane,” in the expressive language 
of that day. He was now lodged in this mighty fortress 
and was rendering it still more formidable by adding 
new works to increase its strength. On the north and 
east it was washed by the German Ocean, and it had 
long withstood the drenching tides and stormy lights of 
the sea. The rocky promontory on which it stood was 
isolated from the mainland by a deep moat or fosse on 

t 

the south and west, which presented the appearance of a 
grand canal when filled with water, and all the imple¬ 
ments known at that time in conducing siege operations 


40 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


in Scotland had been again and again hurled in vain 
against its massive walls. It has been described as a 
vast bastile, containing all the appurtenances requisite 
for ecclesiastical tyranny, epicurean luxury, lordly grand¬ 
eur and military defense—at once a fortress, a monastery, 
an inquisition and a palace. Little cared the warlike 
Cardinal for his outside foes, and he might as well have 
been menaced by the ghost of Wishart, whom he had 
burned before its walls for heresy, as by these youthful 
conspirators. 

On the evening of the 27th day of May, 1546, Norman 
Leslie entered the old sacerdotal town of St. Andrews. 
It was the Archbishopric seat of the primacy, and it 
contained the only university in Europe in which 
theology was the exclusive study pursued. To this day 
it preserves its dim, religious character, and one can 
scarcely turn a corner without running upon a Dodtor 
of Divinity. Leslie brought with him five trusty fol¬ 
lowers, and Kirkaldy was there already, attended by 
six of his clansmen, and they were joined by another 
Leslie who had been informed of the enterprise and 
requested to come. This was John Leslie, who, however, 
did not enter the town till after nightfall, as his person 
was unfavorably known, and his bitter hostility to the 
Cardinal might have excited suspicion. At that season 
of the year the nights were short, and daybreak occurred 
about three o’clock in the morning. At this hour the 
workmen from the town were admitted to the castle. The 
conspirators, now amounting to twelve or fifteen persons, 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


41 


watched for the moment when the draw-bridge was low¬ 
ered and began to enter among the workmen. Norman 
Leslie, his friend Kirkaldy and three men passed over the 
bridge and through the gates in this manner, and to 
avoid suspicion Kirkaldy inquired if the Lord Cardinal 
was stirring yet, and when he could be seen on busi¬ 
ness. Others had also mingled with workmen and 
entered unperceived, but the porter on seeing John 
Leslie instantly suspeCted treason and springing to the 
draw-bridge endeavored to let it fall, but Leslie leaped 
across the gap and dispatched the man before he could 
give the least alarm, and taking the keys of the castle 
from his dead body threw it into the deep moat outside 
the walls. Without any noise and with equal quietness 
the different squads of laborers were led from the ram¬ 
parts where they were employed, and led to the gates 
and told to be off. Kirkaldy, who was perfectly 
acquainted with the castle, took his position at the only 
postern or exit through which any escape could be made. 
(No one passed it afterward except the muffled figure 
of a woman whose name has not been preserved in the 
history of the transaction, and who at that moment had 
left the apartments of the Cardinal, where she had spent 
the night and was leaving at the earliest dawn. The 
faCt was communicated to her husband, and the fair 
and unfortunate lady was afterward found strangled in 
her bed.) 

But the different members of the household, amount¬ 
ing to nearly two hundred people, were yet to be disposed 


42 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


of. The conspirators now divided into parties of three 
or four, and going successively to the apartments of the 
different gentlemen and ecclesiastics who had not }^et 
been awakened, led them one by one, with daggers at 
their throats, to the outer barricades and told them to 
be gone. They then closed the gates and dropped the 
portcullis, realizing Kirkaldy’s scheme of holding the 
castle on their own account. All this had been accom¬ 
plished so noiselessly that the slumbers of the unsus¬ 
pecting Cardinal had not been in the least disturbed. 

So far we can follow these daring youngsters with 
something like interest and are surprised that a fortress 
considered impregnable could be so easily taken by a 
handful of unflinching men under the direction of two 
boys; but the remaining part of the transaction is 
memorable from its atrocity, for it filled all Europe with 
a feeling of profound horror. As } r et the Cardinal was 
asleep, but at last having heard a shuffling of feet he 
awoke and asked at the window looking into the cor¬ 
ridor what occasioned the noise. A voice answered 
that Norman Leslie and Kirkaldy had taken the castle. 
It was the voice of his implacable foe, John Leslie, who 
demanded admittance and threatened to apply force if 
the door were not instantly opened. 

The sanguinary purpose of his assailants must have 
been at once apparent to the Cardinal, for as soon as he 
had put some loose garments upon his person, he rushed 
from his chamber to the secret postern, but finding it 
guarded by the armed retainers of Kirkaldy, returned 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


43 


and with the assistance of a page whose sex is in his¬ 
torical doubt barricaded the door. It was of massive 
oak secured by ponderous bolts of iron, and resisted all 
efforts to force it open. Again the voice of John Leslie 
was heard above the furious shouts of the conspirators 
threatening to burn the entrance, and the cry for fire was 
heard along the gallery and fell upon the ears of the 
prelate with a fearful and ominous sound. A brief 
parley now took place, which has been preserved. 

“ Who calleth? ” inquired the Cardinal, as if tempor¬ 
izing for time. 

“ My name is Leslie,” was the answer. 

“Which of the Leslies—is it Norman?” 

“ Nay, my name is John. ’ ’ 

“ I must have Norman—he is my friend.” 

“ Content yourself with those that are here, for you 
shall have none other.” 

The Cardinal appears to have been struck with a 
sudden determination of self-defense, for he seized a two- 
handed sword in the apartment as if not to die without 
a heroic struggle for his life. The parley was renewed 
by the Cardinal, and the cry for fire was hushed. 

“ Will you spare my life? ” 

“ It may be that we will,” responded the same voice 
as before. 

‘ ‘ Swear then unto me by the wounds of God and I 
will admit ye.” 

An answer was given which seemed to give him 
assurance and he unlocked the door, when John Leslie 


44 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


and Peter Carmichal sprung upon him and inflicted 
several wounds. He sank into a chair, screaming, “ Sir, 
I am a priest, I am a priest, surely ye will not slay me.” 

Sir James Melville now came up and rebuked his 
assailants for their intemperate violence, and, with an air 
of judicial solemnity, turning to the Cardinal informed 
him that he was appointed to die for his many sins, 
especially for the martyrdom of George Wishart, and that 
God had sent him to execute His justice. So saying he 
repeatedly passed his sword through Beaton’s body, leav¬ 
ing him dead on the floor and his page in speechless 
terror at his feet. The alarming intelligence was spread 
through the town by those who had been expelled, and 
the town bell summoned the people from their morning 
slumbers, who gathering in a crowd followed the Provost 
to the edge of the moat, demanding entrance to speak 
with ‘ ‘ my Lord Cardinal. ’ ’ Those within answered with 
a grim humor that ‘ ‘ my Lord Cardinal could not come 
to see them, and did not care to speak with any one.” 
Finding that this answer exasperated the Provost and 
his followers, Norman Leslie reproached them for 
‘ ‘ nauseous fools who craved an audience with a dead 
man,” and to their horror he hung the naked body over 
the battlements, tied in a bloody sheet, and bleeding 
from a dozen ghastly wounds, exclaiming at the same 
time, “There is your God, and now ye are satisfied, get 
you home to your houses, or ye shall see more things 
yet.” The people, who were partial to the Cardinal 
and proud of his having made their city the Episcopal 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


45 


seat of the primacy, looked on the spectacle with horror, 
and dispersed with cries of lamentation and revenge. 

When this surprising capture was made known, 
supporters flocked from all parts to join the victors, until 
the garrison amounted to one hundred and fifty men 
fully armed. Among the new comers were many men 
of distinction, notwithstanding the appalling character 
of Beaton’s death. Some of them had fled from place 
to place to escape the terrors of persecution, and now 
sought this stronghold as an asylum, which before 
seemed to them a frightful dungeon. 

The celebrated John Knox joined the garrison and 
here he preached his first sermon. When he entered 
this eventful fortress Knox no doubt pictured to himself 
a company of men careful in their conversation, serious 
in their deportment and extremely self-denying in their 
habits, for they all favored reform in matters of religion. 
He might reasonably have been under the impression 
that his counsels would have been invited in the ordina¬ 
tion of secular matters, and that he would be sought as 
a moderator and referee in mooted questions of all 
descriptions. If such opinions ever passed through his 
mind they were woefully dispelled, for the garrison 
resembled Babel, and half its inmates unchained fiends. 
They ravaged the country round about, took nobody 
but women prisoners, gambled, drank, quarreled, swore 
and fought among themselves from morning till night; 
and some of the most ungodly, in answer to his denun¬ 
ciations, which were constant and unsparing, called 


46 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


him a beetle-browed priest, and threatened to throw 
him into the sea. 

Kirkaldy, immediately after taking the castle, posted 
to England and had a private interview with Henry the 
Eighth. We now know that Henry had been informed 
of the conspiracy, and in all probability had incited 
those engaged in it to the murder of the Cardinal. The 
King had previously made proposals for the hand of the 
infant Queen of Scotland in marriage with his own son 
and heir. This offer had been indignantly rejected by 
the Cardinal and those having the direction of affairs. 
Henry was about to renew his proposals for the marriage, 
and the removal of the haughty prelate was an objedt to 
be sought, even by assassination. Kirkaldy was there¬ 
fore not only received with marked favor, but he was 
recognized as one who had performed a commendable 
sendee, and he soon returned with promises of immedi¬ 
ate assistance and support in both men and money, of 
which, however, the King’s death anticipated the ful¬ 
fillment. 

This singular revolt was in the most peaceful 
portion of the kingdom. The city of St. Andrews was 
laid under blackmail and the whole adjacent country 
was pillaged and wasted by constant raids from the 
castle. The Leslies and Melvilles were the master 
spirits in every tumult. Young, rash and daring, little 
cared they for the violence or rebellion in which they 
exulted. The Parliament declared them forfeited trai¬ 
tors, and the Regent Arran raised an army and besieged 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


47 


the castle. He displayed the royal standard before the 
fortress, at which they hooted ; he summoned them by 
sound of trumpet to surrender, to which they answered 
with a roar of defiance.. He battered the walls with 
such cannon as Scotland possessed at that time for three 
months. They fired on his trenches and killed his 
master of artillery and wounded many of his men. The 
English government supported the insurgents and the 
Regent applied to France for assistance. A French fleet 
consisting of twenty-one vessels of war soon appeared be¬ 
fore the castle. Its fortifications were battered down, its 
enormous booty was seized and the insurgents were car¬ 
ried off on the ships of the French Captain-General. 
Kirkaldy, the two Leslies and many others filled different 
prisons in France. Knox was condemned to the galleys 
and chained to his oar in the forty-second year of his life, 
which did not increase his good-will to the Catholic 
dodtrines, especially as he termed the destruction of 
Beaton a “godly fadt.” Sir David Lindsay, of the 
Mount, the ever witty approver of the deed, singeth of it: 

As for the Cardinal, I grant 

He was the man we well might want, 

God will forgive it soon ; 

But of a truth, the sooth to say, 

Although the loon be well away, 

The deed was foully done. 

But the good knight’s name was not found upon the 
tremendous roll of three hundred and sixty proscribed 
names, with all the Leslies, Granges, Melvilles, etc., who 


4S 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


were soon to have been put to death, if some of these 
doomed men had not been beforehand with the Cardinal. 

Mount St. Michael, a huge French fortress, was 
selected as the prison of Norman Leslie, John Leslie, 
Kirkaldy and Carmichal. It appears that its governor 
was not precisely aware of the antecedent performances 
of his four guests, or of their daring spirit, otherwise he 
might have guarded against the unpleasant surprise of 
finding, when too late, that they had made an escape 
and carried off the keys of the garrison. After night¬ 
fall they knocked the guards in the head and locked 
them up in the cells. They did the same to the governor 
and made him a prisoner in his own castle. They left 
him without a key to unlock the gates or barriers and 
made their escape into the country long before any 
pursuit was possible. For some time they wandered 
up and down the kingdom of France, with a view of 
studying its military characteristics, and after enduring 
incredible hardships succeeded in reaching England 
without recapture. Here Edward the Sixth allowed 
Kirkaldy a pension, upon which he maintained himself 
until the accession of Mary, when it was withdrawn and 
he was again left without resources. 

During the sixteenth century there was no other 
avenue of employment or honor in Scotland except the 
profession of arms. The cadets of the younger branches 
of Scottish families were devoted by their parents from 
their infancy to that art. Commerce was unknown, 
medicine was considered an unfit occupation for a 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


49 


gentleman, Courts of Justice had only recently been 
established and were despised amidst the feuds and 
turbulence which occupied nearly all classes above the 
common people, and there were but ten lawyers in all 
Scotland, which will account for the lawlessness and 
bad manners of the age. The Scottish cavaliers 
engaged in the military service of the European courts, 
and the memory of their valor and their deeds have long 
furnished materials for song and story. 

Among the restless and ardent spirits who entered 
the service of the French King, Henry the Second, the 
name of Kirkaldy rose to such a pitch of honor and 
celebrity that we can scarcely believe so much renown 
could be achieved by a man before his thirtieth year 
had passed. The wars against the Emperor, Charles 
Fifth of Spain, in Flanders, were fierce and brilliant; 
the campaigns in Picardy, sanguinary and unflinching. 
From them we find Kirkaldy repairing to Court covered 
with honor and received with a distinction paid but 
rarely to veteran and successful generals. His conduct 
was equal to his bravery. Henry said openly that he 
was one of the most valiant men of the age, and the 
great Constable Montmorency always uncovered his 
head when he addressed him, as if to mark to others 
his extraordinary merit. 

With Kirkaldy went to the wars and with him rose 
to fame and glory, his friend, Norman Leslie, Master of 
Rothes. Maturer years had failed to quench the fire in 
his blood or tame his dauntless temper. He seemed to 


4 


50 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


court death with the most exuberant courage. He 
acquired from the soldiers the appellation ‘ ‘ Tourbillon 
de Cosse ,” the Scotch Whirlwind. The Whirlwind’s 
last exploit was at the famous battle of Renti, where 
the French obtained a splendid victory over the Span¬ 
iards. Leslie, with his Scottish lancers, was ordered to 
dislodge a body of Imperialists from certain heights that 
they were about to possess. Sir James Melville, himself 
a famous cavalier, was a witness of this passage at arms, 
and describes it in the quaint language of the age, as 
follows : 

“In view of the whole French army, the Master of 
Rothes, with thirty Scotsmen, rode up the hill on a fair, 
grey gelding. He had above his coat of black velvet 
his coat of armor, with two broad white crosses, one 
before and the other behind, with sleeves of mail, and a 
red bonnet upon his head, whereby he was seen and 
known afar off by the Constable Montmorency. His 
party was diminished to seven by the time he came 
within lance length of the Spaniards, who were sixty in 
number, but he burst upon them with the force of a 
thunder-bolt, escaping the fire of their hand culverins, 
which they discharged incessantly against him. He 
struck five from their saddles with his lance before it 
broke into splinters, then drawing his sword he rushed 
again and again upon them with the headlong fury that 
distinguished him when his blood was up. He had 
really conceived the idea of almost single-handed de¬ 
stroying, or putting to flight, these sixty men. In order 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


51 


to get at them he had previously charged up a long, 
sloping hill, above the French camp, and skirmishing 
along his way, had, as before stated, lost all but seven 
men. But with these seven, now reduced to five, he so 
furiously and repeatedly charged upon the enemy, roar¬ 
ing his battle cry, ‘ St. Bride,’ when bursting through their 
ranks to wheel and hurl himself again and then again 
upon such frightful odds, that the Imperialists became 
confused and wavered, so much so that a troop of Spanish 
horse pressed forward, at full speed, to reinforce and 
rescue the remains of the sixty cavaliers. Unfortunately, 
as Leslie drew back to gain a vantage ground and give 
more impetuosity to his swoop, a flight of bullets poured 
upon him and penetrated everywhere. He felt his 
blood was draining fast, and for the last time, screaming 
‘St. Bride and Scotland,’ led his five companions 
straight upon the coming foe, spurring their wearied 
chargers to a frantic effort, while the Duke d’Enghien, 

• 

who watched the fight, exclaimed, ‘Mon Dieu, can 
mortal man do things like that?’ They actually cut 
their way through the fresh detachment in their path, 
and Leslie galloped back to Montmorency. But he 
was speechless and fell in a death swoon from his 
saddle, while the blood poured through his armor upon 
the turf.” 

By the King’s order he was immediately borne to 
the royal tent, where, when his breath had fled, the 
leaders, who had only beheld him in armor, came to see 
what manner of man was he who rode down troops as if 


52 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


they were single combatants upon a tilted ground. 
“ Now,” said the great Prince Conde, “ I can believe all 
the stories of HeCtor under the walls of Troy. ” So as he 
had lived, died in blaze and tumult, Norman Leslie, 
Master, or eldest son of the Laird of Rothes. 

Upon the same occasion, another troop of lancers 
had performed some extraordinary exploit, and were 
offered by the King some token of his approbation, such 
as they might select. After a consultation among them¬ 
selves, an old trooper came forward wiping his eyes, 
and asked in the name of his comrades if they might 
be permitted to serve under Tourbillon, as he had lost 
all his “ Escossais Amiable ”—his amiable Scotchmen. 
But, unfortunately, Tourbillon had already joined his 
amiable Scotchmen in another world. 

So highly was Norman Leslie valued and deeply 
deplored, that the survivors of his Scottish troop of 
lancers were sent back to their own country ladened 
with rewards and honors; and by Conde’s influence 
those who were exiles were restored to their estates by 
the Regent, as a recompense for their valor on the 
frontiers of Flanders. 

Step by step had William Kirkaldy, from being as 
thorough a paced but sterner desperado, raised himself 
to be a hero and military authority upon the continent. 
Returning from the campaigns of the French, German 
and Spanish Wars, he was received at the Court of 
France with the highest distinction. His conduct was 
equal to his bravery. Henry the King said openly 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


53 


that he was one of the most valiant men of the age. 
He rode by the King’s side at the tournament. 

It was now ten years after the surprise of St. An¬ 
drews and the assassination of Cardinal Beaton. Mary 
of Guise was Regent of Scotland, and either from 
motives of policy or as a reward for his brilliant services 
abroad, she recalled Kirkaldy to his native land and 
restored him to his ancestral estates. 

Tradition has preserved a gentle memory that before 
his banishment he had formed an attachment for a fair 
and beautiful young woman of the House of Learmount. 
The enthusiasm of love was probably kept alive during 
his long absence, for he returned as enamored as when 
he left, and their marriage was soon solemnized accord¬ 
ing to the rites of the Reformed Church. He lived in 
the greatest intimacy with the leading men of the king¬ 
dom, especially with the Regent Murray, Maitland of 
Lethington, and others of the nobility and gentry. 

Mary of Guise, the Queen Regent, was resolute to put 
down the Reformation, while the greater part of the 
landed nobility were equally determined to overthrow the 
Catholic Church. In this wretched controversy the Queen 
Regent had obtained assistance from France, both in 
men and money; and her reinforcements of veteran 
soldiers successively arrived from that country to exter¬ 
minate the Reformation in Scotland, by fire and steel 
and sword. The Regent had previously entered into a 
treaty with the Lords of the Congregation, promising 
them freedom of worship and the exercise of their own 


54 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


religious forms; but, being thus provided with ample 
military force, she broke all her engagements, put the 
Reformers at defiance, and took the field determined to 
crush either them or their heresy out of the kingdom. 

Sir William Kirkaldy, like his father, was strongly 
attached to the Congregation, as the Reformers were 
called, and fought with their army. His enterprise, 
military skill and experience in every mode of warfare, 
was just what was needed, and proved an invaluable 
advantage. He was probably the first soldier in Scot¬ 
land, and one of the few qualified, to take command of a 
fully equipped army. D’Ooisel, with his French 
auxiliaries, swept over Fifeshire and destroyed the fair 
and lovely country from one end to the other. Towns 
and villages were given to the flames. The food which 
the common people had laid up for their support during 
the winter was ruthlessly destroyed, and the walls of 
their humble dwellings were leveled with the earth. 
The home of Kirkaldy, which lay in the heart of the 
beautiful country, was demolished and left a mass of 
smouldering ruins. The dreadful spoliation of his 
estates roused him to inexorable deeds of vengeance. 
In vain he exclaimed, “lam forced to do things that 
wound my heart and blacken my escutcheon.” The 
law of retaliation was the only code acknowledged, and 
an implacable vengeance the only standard of settlement 
and redress. We cannot wonder that the dreadful 
treatment to which the Reformers had been subjedled 
through many bitter years of persecution, had an exas- 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


55 


perating effect upon the Scottish people and occasionally 
made them as savage as their opponents. The progress 
of changed opinions is generally so gradual as to escape 
observation. Not so with the Reformation in Scotland. 
The terrible methods employed to suppress it broke in 
upon the hearts of men at once, and their spiritual 
thoughts and ideas were swollen into a sea of firm belief, 
as if the movement had been the work of a day. 

The religious contests of that age were destitute of 
the amenity incident to ordinary warfare. Effective 
bloodshed, cruelty and torture, with all capacities of 
courage to do and undergo martyrdom, and the gloomy 
spirit of bigotry, devastation and proscription were the 
bloody expedients by which it was sought to control or 
protect the precepts of Christianity. The steadfast 
progress of religion and knowledge have softened the 
barbarism of our nature with the humanities we call 
civilization, and we can now enter but imperfectly into 
the atrocious spirit that pervaded that remorseless war¬ 
fare. The people grew into a rage at the brutal violence 
to which they were subjected. It made all Scotland 
Protestant infinitely quicker than any other method of 
propagandism. Noble and peasant united in cries of 
detestation. They flew to arms. They insulted the 
priests, and in Edinburgh the multitude rushed to the 
religious houses of the Gray and Black Friars and in a 
few hours those magnificent edifices were despoiled of 
their wealth and treasures ; their altars, statuary and 
every ancient relic were torn down and destroyed. The 


56 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


beautiful Charter House or Carthusian Monastery, in 
the fair town of Perth, shared the same fate, and similar 
scenes were repeated in St. Andrews, Anstruthers and 
other places in the neighborhood. 

In that day there stood an ancient Abbey Church 
near the city of Perth. A peculiar reverence even now 
surrounds Scone Abbey, as the spot which had for many 
centuries beheld the coronation of the Scottish kings. 
Beside it stood, unfortunately, the palace of the Bishop 
of Moray, hated for various reasons, but chiefly for his 
instrumentality in the martyrdom of Walter Milne. As 
the opportunity was a favorable one, his enemies sug¬ 
gested that some ‘ ‘ order should be taken ’ ’ with the 
Bishop. He, however, somewhat deprecated their anger 
by promises of present aid, and pledged his vote in 
Parliament on their behalf. It was undoubtedly the 
sincere wish of Knox and other leaders to save this 
revered and hoary pile, as well as the Episcopal 
palace, as relics of their country’s structural magnifi¬ 
cence. At first it was only stripped of the obnoxious 
insignia of the ancient faith, and this compromise was 
settled as a final one. But in the night a tumult rose, 
a man was slain, and immediately the air was filled with 
shouts and cries for vengeance. The doors were burst 
open, torches and fagots filled the aisle and transept. 
The altars, the oaken wainscots and the roof soon 
crackle with the flames, and the tumultuous crowd shout 
as every aperture flows red with the conflagration. 

The French, who came with D’Oosiel, were two or 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


57 


three thousand strong and among the best who had 
fought in the wars of Charles Fifth and Phillip the 
Second. They were under the command of veteran 
officers and a renowned general, and they had not only 
the advantage of being well disciplined, but were also 
equipped with the best war material which Europe had 
then produced. They were brave and merciless and 
looked upon the country as so much booty. They did 
not observe even the appearance of humanity. 

The Congregation had no troops to cope with this 
formidable army, and those who were able withdrew 
from the scene of slaughter and demolition. The gov¬ 
ernment was unmoved by the cries of a broken and 
unarmed people, and their murmurs and complaints 
were only answered by additional ignominy, cruelty and 
scorn. The Reformers grew desperate and their hatred 
of the French incurable. They flocked to the standards 
of the Congregation. A troop of light horse, composed 
of choice men and officers, was assigned to Kirkaldy, 
and well did he repay the insolence of the foreigners. 
He never gave them a moment’s rest. He interrupted 
their supplies, cut off their foraging and raiding parties, 
slaughtered their detachments, and harrassed them day 
and night, until they were not sure of being safe anywhere 
but in their own camp. The battles fought and the 
surprises successfully carried out by Kirkaldy at this 
period, are remarkable for their wild and enterprising 
valor, but it would be impossible, even if I were able, 
to recount them in a compass so circumscribed as this 


58 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


narrative. Suffice it to say that the French were finally 
withdrawn from the country. The Queen mother died 
bitterly lamenting the course she had pursued for the 
establishment of the old religion, and expressing a wish 
that the people she had injured would find sufficient in 
the goodness of her intentions to have a respect for her 
memory and obedience and protection for her daugh¬ 
ter. 

Kirkaldy’s sword was now returned to its scabbard, 
where it remained until the conspiracy was formed 
against Mary Stuart, whose reign as Queen of Scotland 
for four years had been the only period of peace which 
the country had enjoyed since the death of her father, 
King James the Fifth, nineteen years before. 

The Queen’s army and that of the insurgents were 
both in the field and confronted each other for battle. 
The pretext for the rebellion was the Queen’s mar¬ 
riage with the Karl of Bothwell. Most of the nobles 
who had taken up arms had signed a bond recommend¬ 
ing Bothwell as a suitable person for the Queen’s 
husband, and now set it up as a reason to dethrone her. 
They had not only advised the marriage, but they had 
acquitted him of the murder of Darnley upon a trial of 
that charge, according to all the forms then known in 
the judicial process of the country. Bothwell had been 
accused of the crime; they sat upon the case and 
adjudged him innocent. They allowed the marriage 
without making any effort to prevent it. It was un¬ 
doubtedly forced upon her by the violence of Bothwell 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


59 


and by the apparent concurrence of the nobles, and there 
was no power to save her from it unless they had 
espoused her cause and saved her themselves. 

In the army of the rebels were several men of weight 
and distinction, and these were headed by the Earl of 
Murray, the Queen’s illegitimate brother. He was her 
enemy from ambition and envy, for he desired the place 
of Regent by- her dethronement, and was not without 
hope of attaining the crown itself. With them, also, 
was Kirkaldy, of Grange, and the confederates gained 
strength and reputation upon his joining their standard. 
Many of them had been banished for treason, notably 
the Earls of Murray and Morton, but had been restored 
by her clemency to their privileges and lands, and they 
had sworn allegiance again and again to their Queen. 
Kirkaldy was the only one among them all upon whose 
honor she could thoroughly rely, and to whom she 
dared to propose terms or to surrender herself. 

Both armies were assembled near Carberry Hill, not 
far from the modern town of Musselburg, upon the sea. 
It was the month of June—one of those warm and agree¬ 
able summer mornings when the sun cheers the whole 
face of nature. The blooming wild flower, the fresh ver¬ 
dure of the earth, the soft air, and the music of the flow¬ 
ing water from the wooded banks of the Esk transferred 
a charm to the scene and made the little straggling vil¬ 
lage in the neighborhood, with its ancient kirk spires, 
look pleasant in the distance. Kirkaldy had arrived 
upon the spot the night before with two hundred horse- 


60 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


men, and to him the Queen sent a message to desire him 
to come and speak with her. 

The Queen, with whom was the Earl of Both well, 
had camped upon the Hill and was in a position of much 
strength and advantage, while the Eords lay at its foot, 
but were animated with a strong desire to engage in the 
tight without delay, for the purpose as they declared of 
punishing Bothwell and driving him forever from the 
Queen and the government. She had little confidence in 
the soldiers composing her army. They had been 
hastily got together and were lukewarm in her cause ; 
the crimes of Bothwell had been told in the camp and 
during the morning many of the men had wandered 
away and forgotten to return. It was in order to avoid 
the consequences and bloodshed of a battle that she had 
sent for Kirkaldy. He immediatly acquainted the Lords 
of her message and obtained their permission, and 
spurring his charger up the hill found the Queen seated 
on a large stone upon its summit. With knightly 
courtesy he knelt before her and kissed her extended 
hand. Mary was then in the prime of her youth, the 
handsomest woman in Europe and the paragon of 
human beauty. Kirkaldy had seen her abroad when 
she was the idol of the French Court, then the most 
polished and magnificent in Europe. Twice had he 
seen her crowned, for he was present, when, with her 
husband, Francis the Second, she ascended the throne 
of France, and he had also witnessed her coronation 
when she assumed the Iron Crown of Scotland. On the 


THE THREE CAVARIERS. 


61 


present occasion she wore a light and graceful morion 
upon her head, an arabesque hawberk, and gauntlets 
fabricated in Milan, which set off her beauty and gave 
her the air of a Minerva sprung from the heathery 
plains of Dumbarton. She reproached him with the 
rebellion of her nobles. He declared that all of them 
were ready to honor and serve her upon condition that she 
would abandon the Karl of Bothwell, who had murdered 
her husband. Bothwell, who heard this part of the con¬ 
versation, offered the combat to any who would maintain 
that he had murdered the King. Kirkaldy promised to 
send him an answer without delay, and taking his leave 
of the Queen went down the hill to the Lords, and offered 
himself to fight upon that ground, and acquainted Both¬ 
well that he would accept his gage of battle; but Both¬ 
well answered that Kirkaldy was but a Baron and so 
was not his equal; and the same answer he made to an¬ 
other offer. Then Lord Lindsay offered to fight, but it 
was probable that Bothwell’s heart failed him, or the 
Queen forbade the combat, for it never took place. Sir 
James Melville, who was present, has left a description of 
what followed. He says, “Then the Queen sent again 
for the Laird of Grange and said to him that if the Lords 
would do as he had spoken to her, she would put away 
the Karl of Bothwell and come unto them. Whereupon, 
he asked the Lords if he might in their name make her 
Majesty that promise, which they commissioned him to 
do. Then he rode up again, and saw the Karl of Both¬ 
well part, and came down again and assured the Lords 


62 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


thereof. They desired him to go up the hill again and 
receive the Queen, who met him, and said, ‘ Laird of 
Grange, I render myself unto you upon the conditions 
you rehearsed unto me in the name of the Lords/ 
Whereupon, she gave him her hand, which he kissed, 
leading her Majesty’s horse by the bridle down the hill 
unto the Lords, who came forward and met her.” I 
shall not dwell upon the scene of perfidy that followed. 
After being subjected to every species of insult, the 
Lords, in violation of all their pledges, imprisoned her in 
Lochleven Castle, then the abode of Murray’s mother, 
whose heart rankled with the thought that her own son 
might occupy the throne now filled by Mary but for the 
sinister bar upon his birth. Invited by them she vent¬ 
ured to enter their ranks upon their own assurance that 
she might confide in their honor, their religion and 
their solemn promise. She came to them, giving up both 
Bothwell and her army. It would seem that no set of 
men would be so lost to all sense of shame and honor as 
to allow themselves to be held up to everlasting infamy, 
by consenting to such a barefaced violation of their 
plighted word, and this is just what these Lords did 
with respedt to a woman in distress, and that woman 
their Queen, whom they had just promised to receive, 
and honor, and obey as such. In order to palliate 
this flagrant breach of faith, they informed Kirkaldy that 
the “Queen was deceiving them, and that her sending 
Bothwell away was only to dissemble her intentions ; 
that she intended to recall him ; and to give countenance 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


03 


to these representations they alleged that the Queen 
had written a letter to Bothwell the same night she sent 
him away, in which she expressed her strong attach¬ 
ment and assured him that she would never abandon 
him, therefore it stood them upon their lives and lands 
to secure her.” 

But had Kirkaldy known of the long and perfidious 
machinations of Murray, as thoroughly as he did soon 
afterward, or had he known that the letter now produced 
was a forgery designed to destroy confidence in the 
Queen, and to palliate their own wrong, he would have left 
them then and detested them as much as he did when 
those circumstances ere long came to his knowledge. 

In a few months Mary made her escape from Loch- 
leven, and her adherents soon assembled in formidable 
numbers. The French ambassador remarked that he 
had never seen such a multitude of men convened so 
suddenly. The Earl of Murray, now Regent, assembled 
his forces, and with him still was the Laird of Grange 
and to him was committed the “special care, as being 
an experienced captain, to oversee every danger, and to 
ride to every wing, to encourage and make help where 
greatest need was.” This was at the Battle of Long- 
side, the last hazarded by Mary’s adherents before she 
quitted Scotland forever, leaving behind her crown, her 
kingdom and her freedom. She sank at once from the 
summit of human grandeur—from a queen into a captive, 
from power to weakness, from splendor to obscurity. 
The morning saw her on a throne, the evening in a 


64 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


prison. Her sun sunk down like a tropical sun set in a 
moment, and all was darkness. No twilight glory 
lingered after the brief day of her royalty. Had Kir- 
kaldy known all in regard to the parties in whose ranks 
he fought that day, the disastrous result would have 
fallen upon them and not upon the Queen. There is no 
doubt that at the Battle of Eongside he alone had the 
power and would have had the will to set her upon the 
throne of her father, before that day’s light went down 
upon the dismal scene. 

About two years after the departure of Mary, Kir- 
kaldy held the post of Governor of Edinburgh Castle. 
Although his mind was not clearly satisfied on some 
points, he was in a better position than many other men 
who wished well both to their country and its sovereign 
to act for himself. Murray, who was now Regent, 
caused the arrest of several of the adherents of Mary. 
Kirkaldy remonstrated; his suspicions were aroused 
and, in fa<5t, soon confirmed. One of the Regent’s 
creatures observed to him, “I marvel, Sir William, that 
you have not the grace to see how necessary it is for the 
glory of heaven that such traitors should be punished, 
and how can we who befriend the Regent receive our 
stipend except by ruining his enemies? ” “ Ha ! ” said 

Kirkaldy with an imprecation, “You are a godly rascal ; 
I see nought among you all but greed, and envy, and 
liars, and so you will wreck the Regent and the realm, 
too.’’ And from that moment he devoted himself to the 
cause of the Queen. 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


65 


It is in order now more particularly to turn our 
attention towards Maitland, of Eethington. An affedlion 
of the most remarkable honesty was entertained by 
Kirkaldy for Maitland. He admired his learning, his 
wit, his daring and his polished manners. They had 
both lived as exiles in France, they were both of the 
Reformed religion—one being its sternest warrior and 
the other its most accomplished statesman. Kirkaldy’s 
admiration, if not affedtion, was undoubtedly due to 
Eethington’s transcendent abilities. It is true that his 
political principles were as unstable as quicksand. He 
had maintained few principles that he originally 
espoused. His diplomacy had resorted to the most 
indefensible expedients, and if he had assumed neutral¬ 
ity on topics which straightforward men felt constrained 
to speak explicitly about, he had, on the other hand, 
suffered his support to be pledged on both sides of many 
important questions. During the power, and we may 
say the few happy days of Mary, he had done his best 
to embroil her reign and mar the efficacy of her best 
endeavors. He had sown her domestic hours with 
thorns and fomented the most flagitious falsehoods upon 
her reputation as a woman. He had been the all-trusted 
coadjutor of Murray, and equalled him in many things— 
in all, perhaps, of a mischievous nature, except his cool, 
dispassionate cruelty and matchless self-possession. 
The plots and schemes he had woven for her annoyance 
and ruin were beyond computation ; the lies he had 
told with his own lips and put into those of others defy 
5 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


G6 

conception ; and when the black and frightful inventions 
had reaped their reward, and this beautiful woman 
whom he knew so well, and to whose clemency and 
generosity he owed so much, was gone forever from her 
native soil into captivity and mourning and desolation, his 
heart relented, and either from remorse or true patriot¬ 
ism stirred within it, he changed his conduct and 
devoted every faculty and resource to defeat the combi¬ 
nations of Elizabeth and restore her helpless captive to 
freedom and power. 

Into all the attendant stratagems, deceptions and 
furtive manoeuvres of a first-class intrigue this adroit 
and accomplished man had often plunged. He cared 
little in reality about the instruments he employed to 
secure his ends, if they were only available and effective. 
He now elaborated a fascinating project for the marriage 
of the Scottish Queen with the Duke of Norfolk, which, 
unlike his former subtle enterprises, was to end in her 
restoration, love and happiness. His religion had long 
cloaked the most astute designs. Now that it could 
only embarrass his movements and startle his new asso¬ 
ciates, who were mostly of the old faith, he remorselessly 
condemned it as a threadbare garment and left it for the 
friends of Murray. But Elizabeth of England had 
sworn that Mary’s sufferings should never break. No 
less a mistress of every wile and hollow artifice than 
Lethington himself, her policy seemed to draw inspira¬ 
tion from the ever bleeding side of Scotland, and she 
had sworn that Mary’s head should never rest, that her 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


07 


toils should never break, until her unappeasable hatred 
of the Scottish Queen should be glutted by her de¬ 
struction. 

Elizabeth of England was, of course, deeply interested 
in Scottish affairs. She promised her protection to the 
Dissenters, but left them in a constant state of expectation, 
without really assisting them with any substantial aid. 
When the French and other troops of the Queen Regent 
were ravaging the country with fire and sword, she 
wrote letters and sent secret agents with empty promises. 
Commenting upon these crooked proceedings, Sir Janies 
Melville says, “The Court of England, on the other 
hand, left nothing undone to kindle the fire, and to 
furnish both the factions with hope of assistance in case 
of need. For ofttimes by their ambassadors ordinary, 
who were resident here, they upon some new occasion 
would send in another openly to deal with one party 
that seemed the strongest, and underhand to deal with 
another faCtion, alleging that their quarrel was most 
just and right.” 

Eethington had been in her interest in all these 
iniquitous dealings, and when she heard of his desertion 
from her cause, her exasperation knew no bounds and 
she made the Council Chamber ring with her impreca¬ 
tions. Murray, who was now Regent, instead of 
watching the honor of his country, was playing into the 
hands of this vindictive spinster, and to him was com¬ 
mitted the charge of hatching a conspiracy invented by 
herself for the destruction of Eethington. He was to 


68 


THE THREE CAVARIERS. 


be accused of the murder of Darnley, the Queen’s hus¬ 
band. The same accusation had been made against 
Mary Stuart, but Elizabeth herself had pronounced 
her innocent of the charge. It was, therefore, to be 
regarded as a mistake, and Lethington was to be proved 
the guilty party. 

Indeed it was a common method of their hate to 
hurl this terrible malediction at whoever they wished to 
destroy, and even Morton, himself the bitterest accuser 
of Mary, was afterward executed for his participation in 
the crime. There was a stoical absurdity in the freedom 
with which they imputed this bloody atrocity to any 
one of their number who had become obnoxious and 
whose downfall was desirable. 

Lethington was aware of impending danger and had 
withdrawn to his glens, but Murray, by false pretence 
and indirection, allured him from his retirement, and 
craftily concealing his own participation in the scheme, 
had him arrested. This manoeuvre touched Kirkaldy 
to the quick. He had expeCted Lethington as a guest, 
and the idea that his brilliant friend should be made 
prisoner fired his affeCtion and indignation. He 
expostulated with Murray, who told him he regretted 
the fa<5t but was powerless to alter or remedy it; the 
Earl of Morton had sole charge of the prosecution, and 
added sarcastically, ‘ ‘ Perhaps your interference with 
him might be effective,” and left him. Kirkaldy fol¬ 
lowed him with a bitter smile. “ It shall be effective, by 
the sword of my fathers,” said he, striking the heavy 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


69 


weapon he inherited and always wore. “My Lord 
Regent thinks,” said he, turning to his secretary, “that 
the son of a Scottish Laird cannot read the human face 
as well as a royal bastard. We have to catch thoughts 
quick in battle—this is one. Lethington is doomed, I 
read it all in the Regent’s eye. He is under guard of 
Morton’s men from the yarrow, and the first movement 
made to rescue him they are told to plunge their dirks 
into him so that Elizabeth may be sure that he is punished 
and Murray faithful to the English. We had just such 
a foul case like this in the Picard. Well! if I surprised 
a castle before my teeth had grown, I can outwit these 
loons. Here is Murray’s handwrite—forge me an order 
for Lethington and see how quick he will be given; I 
doubt me that Home and Morton like the work, for 
Lethington knows too much and his word would pass 
through the world touching the murder. Let ten men 
go and as soon as they have got Lethington let them 
pull out their whinyards and slay all they will, but not 
till then. Ha ! as if I did not understand this drearisome 
work better than the bastard.” 

As Kirkaldy supposed, the forged order obtained 
credence and Lethington arrived in time to sup with 
him, and there can be no doubt but that Lethington, 
who knew that his host was the soul of chivalry and 
truth, after the other inmates had retired to rest for the 
night, made a full disclosure of all the foul and hidden 
treachery which had ruined the Queen and duped him¬ 
self ; nor can there be any doubt but that in the statement 


70 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


he solemnly exonerated Mary Stuart from any crime or 
criminal intention. Certain it is that as morning broke 
Kirkaldy was observed just retiring to bed, his face 
flushed with passion and determination and his eyes 
swollen with weeping. This was the turning point of 
Grange’s career. He attended the funeral of Murray, 
soon after, and then broke with all his faction, including 
Knox, who was pleased to visit the vials of his wrath 
upon the head of his former disciple, from half the pul¬ 
pits in Scotland. The difference between the citizens 
of Edinburgh and their Provost soon threw off the veil 
of neutrality, which in those times was frequently drawn 
between parties who meditated and prepared a recipro¬ 
cally fatal blow. Kirkaldy openly exhibited his prepa¬ 
rations against molestations, in case the grumbling 
burghers proceeded beyond verbal hostilities. By 
hoisting artillery upon the stone bartizan of the Cathedral 
of St. Giles, he commanded the city and was able to 
enfilade all points of deliberative or religious assembly. 
He gave the citizens a foretaste of what might happen 
by frequently repelling his own sham attacks in the 
dead of night, and kept his garrison in constant activity 
and its neighborhood in apprehension by the discharge 
of ordnance and sudden sorties, as a matter of drill and 
discipline. No doubt he beheld with grim satisfaction 
the terror of his townsfolks, but he had just received a 
terrible warning from the other side. In spite of all 
military precautions the stronghold of Dumbarton had 
been carried on the last day of a truce, by surprise and 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


71 


coup-de-main , the garrison put to the death, and Ham¬ 
ilton, Archbishop of St. Andrews, immediately hanged 
by Lennox. 

A crisis, of which the unexampled singularity did 
not conceal the importance it involved or the vengeful 
indications its termination verified, wrapt the city of 
Edinburgh in its issue. Morton, although denounced 
and defied by Kirkaldy, made overtures for his assist¬ 
ance against Lennox. All his propositions being 
spurned he formed a coalition with Lennox himself, and 
Edinburgh was attacked. The castle and its enclosures, 
still held by Grange, were placed in the best possible 
posture for defence, and the town began to receive 
indubitable evidences that he did not intend to be 
beleaguered and harrassed with impunity to the enemy. 
The great Cathedral commanded the ground on three 
sides. Its vaults were filled with musketry and loop- 
holed to emit its vollies. His artillery from its tower 
swept the celebrated Cannongate, and he threw up 
additional ramparts with fosses at assailable points. He 
took possession of the city ports, his soldiers foraged (if 
the term is applicable to a city burglary,) the Regent’s 
palace and bore off all his valuables. They broke into 
the Talbooth, dispersed the clerks and magistrates, and 
deposed the portly bailies without a single exception. 
In lieu thereof, he installed a bench of functionaries, 
with the amiable chief of Fornihurst at its head. The 
rest were like their chairman. They transacted civil 
affairs in full armor, with their morions on their heads 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


72 

and two-handed whinyards at their sides, and, consid¬ 
ering that they were so suddenly transformed from 
mosstroopers into city fathers, history declares that 
neither their ignorance nor appetites need blush at a 
comparison with their predecessors. 

During this state of civil war, and singularly enough, 
raging within the walls of the same city, the Regent 
Lennox called a meeting of the three estates. Kirkaldy 
fired upon the council room, and making a sortie burnt 
it to the ground. His next step was equally determined. 
He summoned a Parliament in the name of Queen Mary 
and passed laws by virtue of her authority. Another 
assembly, called the Black Parliament, was sitting at 
the same time at Sterling, but he exhibited the Regalia 
of Scotland and decreed the rival body to be traitors 
and impostors. 

Among the most renowned exploits of this time, were 
the attack of Claude Hamilton upon the Black Parlia¬ 
ment in the rocky key fortress of the North, the capture 
of its leaders and the death of Lennox. But the endur¬ 
ance of Kirkaldy could not save if it upheld the Queen’s 
cause. The partisans of Mary became willing to transfer 
their allegiance to her son Janies, and, nominally loyal, 
in point of facft deserted her. Save the castle back of 
Edinburgh, Lord Home, the Melvilles and Gordon, 
Kirkaldy and his guest, Maitland, stood alone under 
the banner of their imprisoned sovereign. Even the 
English envoy, touched by his heroism, besought him 
to yield. “No,” said Kirkaldy, “though my friends 


THE THREE CAVARIERS. 


73 


have forsaken me and the city of Edinburgh has done so, 
too, yet shall I defend this castle to the last. I never 
have once yielded in all my life.” 

On the first day of January, 1573, Morton, who was 
now Regent, sent the women and non-combatants out 
of the city, and it was bombarded with the utmost fury 
from the castle. But the Regent had obtained an 
English fleet, with battering trains and cannoniers, by 
sea and an army by land, sent by Elizabeth to aid him. 

When the desperate defence began Kirkaldy had 
only one hundred and fifty men. To properly garrison 
such an extent of ramparts, bastions and ancient mas¬ 
onry, and granite rock, two thousand men at arms would 
have been requisite ; but with this handful of adherents 
he fought until many of his guns were dismantled, three 
towers demolished and gaps rent in the curtain wall. 
The vast frowning tower of King David, hoar and 
mossed with the hand of four centuries, was breached 
and its interior arches shot away. Still, as it trembled 
almost atilt upon the brink of the castle’s precipice, it 
continued to pour forth flames and iron shot, until yield¬ 
ing to the storm of artillery without and its own con¬ 
cussions within, it plunged like an avalanche over the 
perpendicular crag, carrying with the roar of thunder 
its flag of defiance into the abyss below. 

Undismayed by the result of a defence that had now 
continued thirty days and nights, the heroism of the 
surviving defenders was still more sorely tested by the 
horrors of thirst. The supply of water they succeeded 


74 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


in procuring was at last poisoned by the beleaguers, 
and of those who escaped the agonizing death of their 
fellows the greatest number were reduced to skeletons 
by its effects and unable to bear the weight of their 
armor. At last there remained no hope of victory, no 
possibility of relief. The men at arms, worn out with 
constant watching and incessant warfare, parched with 
horrid thirst and cooped up in a rapidly diminishing 
space, broke into open mutiny and threatened to hang 
Eethington over the walls of the castle. Yet amid the 
hurtling shot and crumbling ramparts Kirkaldy retained 
sufficient power over those infuriated soldiers to quell 
their insubordination and continue the defence. But 
Morton had now the control of all the fortresses, and in 
fact had possession of the whole military strength of the 
kingdom. The cause of the castle was as utterly ruined 
as its battlements, and it was evident that an over¬ 
whelming force was about to storm the fortress upon the 
eastern side, which had now become defenceless. 
Further resistance had become equivalent to suicide. 
The flight of forty steps which had been the main en¬ 
trance were impassable, for they were covered with heaps 
of broken masonry, dislodged rocks and the debris of 
the siege. The archways were choked with their 
uncentered keystones and precipitated turrets. Both 
gates and portcullis were alike an impassable ruin. 
As new cannonades took effect, tottering parapets and 
buttresses poured down their ruins “like pebbles on a 
sandy shore.” When at last a conference between the 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


75 


beleaguerants was agreed upon, the Governor and Sir 
Robert Melville, of Murdocuorine, were lowered from 
the ruins by cords, for the whole structure had become 
a mass of gigantic defacement. The ferocious Morton 
had too long whetted his revenge not to glut it to the 
dregs. His ultimatum was that the Governor, Sir 
James, his brother, Rethington, Rord Home, Sir Robert 
Melville and six others should submit and place their 
persons unconditionally in his hands. They returned 
with only one dread alternative—to sell their lives as 
dearly as possible, but with a certainty of death before 
them. Even this last terrible consolation was denied 
them. A mutiny more determined and irrepressible than 
the former one broke out and the soldiers began to desert 
to the enemy over the splintered causeway, at the hazard 
of their necks. Still, in the very extremity, the mag¬ 
nanimity of the soldier’s pride for his flag shone 
above the desperate circumstances around him. Deter¬ 
mined that it should not be pulled down by the English 
leader, he privately sent word to Rord Herries to march 
the Scottish companies between the castle and the 
army, so that they might be the first to enter. The next 
morning he surrendered his sword (and came forth) to 
Drury, Elizabeth’s commander, who solemnly promised 
him that his estates should be restored and the lives of 
all his gallant adherents preserved. 

Drury was a gallant and generous soldier himself, 
and neither to his character nor interest can the delib¬ 
erate and wanton violation of this the most sacred of all 


76 THE THREE CAVALIERS. 

pledges be attributed. The influence and advice of 
Morton undoubtedly prevailed with the councils of 
Elizabeth. He had pandered to her vengeance, for by 
his treachery was Northumberland betrayed to the 
scaffold, and she, therefore, stood pledged to requite 
the bloody favor in its own kind. Drury was ordered, 
greatly to his intense mortification, to place his prisoners 
in the hands of Morton as sole arbiter of their destiny. 
The arts, resources and fertile diplomacy of Lethington 
were futile in this last extremity of his fate. He antic¬ 
ipated the executioner by suicide. The unappeasable 
malice of Morton refused his body the rites of sepulture. 
He not only turned a deaf ear to the Karl of Athol and 
other powerful intercessors, but, unmoved by the piteous 
and touching prayers of his wife, the celebrated Mary 
Flemming, who was one of the Queen’s companions in 
France, ordered the corpse of her husband to remain 
above the ground until it almost resolved back to the 
natural elements. 

The trial of Kirkaldy was past, and the day of exe¬ 
cution was fixed for one of the proudest and noblest 
soldiers that ever wore the golden spurs of knighthood; 
and the last testimony of his worth paid by his country¬ 
men, brothers-in-arms and the chivalry of the land 
added laurels, even in the presence of the scaffold, to 
the unquailing brow of Sir William Kirkaldy, Laird of 
Grange. One hundred Barons and gentlemen of rank, 
fortune and reputation stepped forward as one man 
and offered to become vassals of the House of 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


77 


Douglass, of which Morton was at that time the head, 
upon the single condition that his life should be spared. 
They even offered to enter into bonds of man-rent or 
perpetual fealty for this purpose. They offered money, 
jewels, lands and hereditary privileges in exchange for 
his life, but in vain. The churchmen clamored for his 
blood and the notorious avarice of Morton was proof 
not sufficient to overcome his thirst for Grange’s execu¬ 
tion. Even the ferocious old Eord of Lindsay melted 
at his fate and interfered with might and main to save 
him from the block. Through the streets, crowded to 
excess by scowling foes, and railing partisans, and pity¬ 
ing friends, he was drawn from the gloomy cells of old 
Holyrood to the ancient market-cross of Edinburgh, 
surrounded by the mailed soldiers of the fierce and 
relentless Morton. He who in youth had won his spurs 
in the wars of Picardy and been the brother-in-arms of 
Henry the Second; he who had shone victorious in the 
brilliant tournaments of France, and led the Light 
Cavalry charges through the blood and carnage of Renti 
and Cambray; he who had fought in the fierce wars of 
the new faith and carried the victory at Langside; he 
whose sword had never been sheathed when his country 
or his honor required it to be drawn; he who was in the 
years of her greatest extremity the champion of the 
injured and beautiful Queen, in whose cause he laid 
down his life, though dragged to the scaffold, did not 
in his last hour forfeit that noble reputation for courage 
which was the hereditary right of his race. 


78 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


The bright sunset of a summer evening streamed 
down the lofty vista of the Can^ongate, and burnished 
the vast Gothic fapade of St. Giles, and was reflected 
from the fantastic spires of the old T&lbooth. The 
Reformed ministers attended on his last moments and 
heard his last prayers, which were for his country and 
its unhappy Queen, and that Heaven would mercifully 
receive his soul after he was dead and gone. 

Among the heroes of a cause which still attracts my 
sympathies, and as a brilliant leader either of thousands 
arrayed in the pomp of warfare, or of desperate hands- 
ful animated by his still more dauntless spirit, William 
Kirkaldy will always stand high on the roll of those 
who have exercised the profession of arms. He will 
also stand high on the perhaps better list of those who, 
deliberately casting all ties of interest and ease on one 
side, devoted his valor and extraordinary influence to 
pillar up the cause of his country and poured forth his 
last breath as a tribute on the shrine of patriotism. His 
death reminds us in many respects of the typical end of 
the Marquis of Montrose upon the same spot at a later 
age. But, unlike this celebrated cavalier, Grange was 
almost a man of the people, certainly far removed from 
the splendid feudalism which surrounded the great Mar¬ 
quis. We have seen that Kirkaldy’s indomitable courage 
was an hereditary endowment, but his honesty, devotion 
and genius on that troubled ocean of conflicting opinions 
and all subverting ambition belong imperishably to his 
individual character alone. Hardy, impetuous, but 


THE THREE CAVALIERS. 


79 


vigilant and comprehensive in warfare, all historians 
join in the representation that he was one of the most 
merciful, disinterested and unassuming of beings, and 
preeminent as the mirror of true chivalry, and exemplar 
of every manly and gentle virtue. 



THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD 

YET. 


The follies of mankind have often been a subject of 
satire. It is not, however, as a satirist that I write, for 
I make no pretensions to that charadter, but rather that, 
by pointing out individual cases, an influence may be 
exerted to corredt some of the glaring evils that afflidt a 
large portion of the human family. There is no need 
of enlarging upon the vices of our fellowmen, unless we 
can do something to remedy them, and perhaps the best 
way to attain this end is to point them out in their true 
colors. Many are quite unconscious that they are fools 
until their own pi< 5 ture is drawn for them. 

With this purpose in view I have thrown a few 
illustrations together, such as may fall under any one’s 
observation almost daily; and indeed most of them are 
so common that they are passed over as if they were the 
settled order in the living manners of the age. We are 
not aware how much may be learned from a fool, for he 
often instructs us by his follies. When, for instance, a 
man begins speaking of himself, he may have a fool for 
his subjedt, and then we see how ridiculous it is to be a 
fool. When a man is so far gone in self-conceit that he 



THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


81 


cannot see how absurd it is to be always talking about 
himself, he will find out some time that he is a fool and 
that everybody knows it. Do not, therefore, talk about 
yourself as if there was nothing in the world but your 
interest, and nothing worth speaking about but your 
aCtions. A great many people think a man can do all 
he proposes by doing nothing but speaking of what he 
is going to do, but never does it. If you are tempted 
to speak of what you intend doing, be sure you do it, 
and be sure you do it well. Another class of persons 
are all the time complaining about their health, or their 
digestion, or their ill luck, but never think of caring 
about other people’s, and do not even care if other peo¬ 
ple have no health at all. These classes are to be pitied, 
for they are a trouble to themselves as well as to others, 
and will never prosper until they become rational and 
see something and somebody in the world besides 
themselves. There are also a large number who think 
the best way to live is not to let other people live in 
peace. They are all the time finding fault with every¬ 
thing and every person, and are never so happy as 
when they make everybody else miserable. You will 
see them sometimes, when the sun is bright and every¬ 
thing cheerful, going about with a solemn face and 
predicting that it will rain, or snow, or blow, or do 
some other disagreeable thing right away, and when 
their prediction fails they pretend that the evil day will 
come all the same. When I see one of these croakers, 
he reminds me of an old horse turned out to pasture 


6 


82 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


and leaving the green grass for some old fodder cast 
away as useless. It is not often that one sees such an 
animal looking as if he would like to run a race, and 
prick up his ears at the sound of the blast which starts 
the wild steeds in full career; nor is it often that you see 
a man of that description looking as if he wanted to be 
happy, or cheerful, or to go to a neighbor’s and make a 
pleasant call. He puts you in mind of a man who 
wants to bite and scratch everybody he sees and every¬ 
body he meets. 

There is another class of people who are always 
striving to outshine their acquaintances, and to gain 
some reputation for their equipage, or their clothes, or 
their houses, or their children, or for whatever belongs 
to them. There is no end to the praises and the virtues 
of these, and you would really think to hear them talk 
that there were no houses or children in the world but 
their own. They are not only tedious, but irritating in 
their inordinate egotism. If you undertake to get in a 
word about your own matters you are instantly stopped 
by a renewal of their self-laudation and their extraor¬ 
dinary affairs of the same kind. They are unconscious, 
or at least seem to be unconscious, of their eternal 
clatter about themselves and their belongings, and 
never suspedt that of all persons in this world they are 
the most pestiferous bores and coxcombs. 

Another class quite like the last are the persons who 
are on all occasions looking for some one to button-hole 
upon a wonderful discovery they have made, and they 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


83 


seem to think that it will revolutionize the globe and 
start mankind on a new career. They are a harmless 
race, and the world goes on just the same as if it were 
not about to be turned upside down by the daring in¬ 
ventor. They often light upon something useful and 
compensate for their disagreeable qualities by sub¬ 
stantial benefits, which is never the case with the other 
fools I have mentioned. 

In fadt, there are crowds of people who delight in 
making fools of themselves, without the least notion that 
they are doing so, and who are quite sure they are 
all right and that everybody else is a fool or an idiot. 
They take great comfort in the thought that they can¬ 
not help these out of their foolishness, for if they did 
they would be just as wise as themselves, so they con¬ 
clude it is just as well that they should remain the only 
wise people in the world. They never consider them¬ 
selves entitled to any credit for being better than other 
people, for they are made so by a wise Providence, and 
the others cannot help being fools, for they were 
created in that way, and so they go through life like a 
horse with blinders on his head to prevent him from see¬ 
ing sidewa}^s, only the horse knows he is blind, and 
they do not know that they are hoodwinked by their 
own vanity. 

If one is desirous of seeing the greatest of all fools, 
let him look into a mirror and he will probably, in nine 
cases out of ten, see the very person he is looking for. 
In such a case, he will at least be sure to see something 


84 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


very like a fool of uncommon size, just about as big as 
they make them. At all events, if he is honest in his 
endeavor to find a fool, he cannot find one in any way 
with less trouble. 

It is not proposed to run out the whole line of these 
singular creatures. It is enough to say of the whole 
race of fools, that they are of every variety and form 
that human folly can devise. If you see a man uncom¬ 
monly addicted to any particular vice, such as intem¬ 
perance, profanity, lying, cheating, or gambling, you 
may be sure that he is not the most foolish person in the 
world, for there are just as big fools who do not practice 
these vices as are those wl}o do. I once knew a reformer 
of the strictest sort, who denounced these sins and many 
more besides, but was himself the most consummate 
back-biter and gloomy bigot. All was wrong, every¬ 
thing was out of order, men and women were corrupt, 
society was rotten and the world was a mass of festering 
ills; his only hope was that his plans would be adopted. 
His grim visage and gaunt figure, his sickly smile and 
his harsh voice, indicated that he must have been created 
to give mankind an example of the most pronounced 
folly that could be presented—that of the most abso¬ 
lute fool trying to do the work of the best and wisest of 
our race. 

But let us see for a moment if there are not some 
fools who look upon other fools with a just contempt. 

I had a friend whose aim in life seemed to be to brino- 

o 

about the millennium. He was good and brave, liberal 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


85 


and full of the milk of human kindness, but he wanted 
to press his views on all occasions and on all persons, 
without any regard to the fitness of things. One day 
he met a beggar and gave him a quarter, and soon after¬ 
ward he met a millionaire and gave him also a quarter, 
saying that he was the poorest of the two, and needed 
charity a great deal more than the beggar. On another 
occasion he called upon a friend and told him he ought 
to go to the hospital and take care of the sick, and upon 
being asked why, replied that the hospital was a place in 
which to treat sick people. “ But,” said the friend, “ I 
am not sick.” “Ah!” replied the philanthropist, 

‘ ‘ you deceive yourself, you are very sick and need to be 
treated for the moral good of your nature, which is badly 
diseased, and you must do something to save your soul 
before it is too late.” Now this gentleman was perfectly 
sane and wanted to do all the good he could, but the 
means he adopted were those of a fool of the worst kind. 
Instead of persuading people he insulted them, and in¬ 
stead of converting them to his theories he turned them 
away by his folly. 

There is also a kind of fools who escape observation 
on account of their insignificance. They are, however, 
entitled to honorable mention, for they excel in many 
respecfts all other fools in their entire self-posses¬ 
sion under every and all circumstances. They never 
refletft upon what they are going to say or do. They 
are always ready to undertake anything, no matter how 
important or how difficult. When they begin to speak 


80 


THE FOOTS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


you are reminded of a man who has lost his voice and is 
trying to recover it by screaming as if he had the bron¬ 
chitis in the lower part of his lungs, and was trying to 
bring it to the top by main strength. They never stop 
to consider whether any one is listening to them and 
never seem to care. They are always in a fever of 
excitement about something, and generally about other 
people’s business. They speak of a neighbor as if he 
were a mere cipher in the neighborhood and did not 
amount to a row of pins. Indeed, they would speak 
disrespectfully of the sun or the moon if these luminaries 
were near enough to be familiar with them. They have 
a very high opinion of their own opinion, and speak of 
this friend and that friend and exclaim, “They love 
me,” but never speak of their own good-will toward 
any one. They are most always the first to see an 
accident or an event of any sensational kind, and to go 
about magnifying their own importance by relating it to 
everybody they meet. They never stop to corredt a 
misstatement or to give you any idea but that they were 
the first to discover the affair, and but for them the world 
would have remained in blissful ignorance. They stand 
at the corners and in the halls where people most do 
congregate, and look at all the people as so many ears 
to hear their stories, and they fire off adjedlives and 
adverbs as if they were the only men who could inform 
and enlighten mankind. But let them pass with their 
clatter and their babble, for we have many other sub- 
jedts to notice. 


THE FOOTS ARE NOT ALT DEAD YET. 


sr 


There is one class of men for whom we all cherish 
very great respedt, and who generally command our 
admiration, but nevertheless occasionally drop into the 
company of the fools by right of fellowship. I allude 
to the men who never marry nor are given in marriage. 
They have many amiable qualities and are often very 
useful to aunts and nieces and cousins, for they usually 
have as many of these as the Admiral in Pinafore. 
When he is rich how they play around the dear old 
fellow, just because they love him so much ; he is really 
too good for anything. Perhaps he is generous withal, 
and recognizes the duties he owes to society by keeping 
up a show of sympathy for relatives. But he is, on the 
other hand, far oftener crusty, frosty and touchy, despis¬ 
ing woman generally, and not unfrequently ends the 
singleness of his life by marrying when he is old, greatly 
to the dismay of his relatives, and makes a fool of him¬ 
self by taking to himself a wife who rules him with a 
rod and fills his life with the joys of petticoat government 
in its best estate. How much better if the old fool had 
married when he was young and could choose a congenial 
companion to be the joy and solace of his declining years. 
In nine cases out of ten he realizes that marriage is a 
failure. 

When we look around we are astonished at the 
number of the fools. They rise up on every hand; 
they seem to grow in despite of the law of biology, which 
only permits the fittest to survive. But they live on in 
defiance of biology and natural selection and all that sort 


88 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


of science. Carlyle said that the people of England 
were mostly fools. He was, no doubt, cynical, but 
anybody knows how foolish men are and how ridicu¬ 
lous they appear in the eyes of wisdom. I remember 
an example of a man who had two sons. To one he 
gave a handsome home to live in and set him up in a 
flourishing business. To the other he gave a thousand 
dollars in cash and told him to go and seek his fortune. 
The young man accepted the situation without a mur¬ 
mur, and by industry and skill became a man of great 
business capacity and accumulated riches in great store. 
The son who had been favored in the first instance had 
not the advantage of a practical education, and being 
left to his own want of experience soon ruined his 
business and had to part with his residence to satisfy 
his creditors. The father made a foolish mistake and 
committed a positive injustice to both of his children. 
In the first place he should have sent them to a business 
college to learn business methods and practice, and then 
given them experience in the affairs of life. The one 
would have been saved and the other have doubled his 
success and his usefulness. 

Let us now consider the men who think themselves 
the humblest people in the world. They are not very 
numerous, but still there are enough of them to make it 
worth our while to see if they can be classified among 
the fools. I remember an instance of a man who was 
forever prating about his humility. He had no occasion 
to speak of it, for it spoke for itself and was visible in all 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


89 


his a<5ls. If he went to market he always wanted the 
best cuts and the finest joints. In poultry he was never 
satisfied unless he got the fattest turkeys, the most 
tender chickens and the sweetest birds that could be 
found. His humility was so great that he was satisfied 
with the best fancy dishes that could be cooked, and he 
never found fault with anything, provided it was the 
best of its kind. He even carried his humility so far 
that he was completely easy only when he had nothing 
but canvas ducks and diamond-back terrapin. He was, 
moreover, of a liberal turn. He could not think of 
going to church with less than a nickel for the collec¬ 
tion, and always put it into the plate as if he unloaded 
a large portion of his fortune. He was never known to 
refuse a good dinner, and never gave one. He was 
always on the lookout for a chance to show his humility 
and then he was sure to look around to see if any 
witnessed his extreme littleness and want of self-esteem. 
No man had ever known him to do a kind acft ; and no 
one had ever seen him do a mean one, except when he 
had an excessive fit of humbleness ; then he would do 
things that did appear rather mean ; such, for instance, 
as going into a grocery store and taking up a handful of 
sugar, or an apple, or a cracker, just, as it were, accident¬ 
ally, and munch them away in the most unconscious 
manner until he had made a pretty fair lunch and then 
leave, as if he had made a bill of goods to be sent 
to his home. This was such a common practice with 
him that one of The tradesmen sent him a bill of several 


90 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


dollars, which, of course, he refused to pay, but his free 
lunches were considerably curtailed. When I was a 
young man I remember the case of a woman who was 
the very pink of humility. She had no hair to speak 
of, and was not much given to dress, only as she could 
get clothing very cheap, and the better the article was and 
the cheaper, she liked it all the more. On one occasion, 
meeting a lady acquaintance she asked her if she had heard 
the rumor that a mutual friend had run off with a footman. 
The friend replied in the negative, when she informed her 
of the details of an elopement and all how the lady was 
dressed, and how the footman got into the window and 
they went in a cab and got married by a Justice of the 
Peace. “Well,” inquired her friend, “who told you 
all this ? ’ ’ She had it all from a servant in the family 
and there could be no doubt about it. “ But you know, 
my dear, I would not mention it only to a good friend 
like yourself.” “Then you must now hear me. I have 
just come from the home of the young lady whom you 
say has eloped, and she is at home as usual, only she 
has been confined to her room for a few days with 
a severe cold.” “ Indeed,” replied Miss Humility. 
“ Why, what a pity to spoil so nice a story; but I wish 
you would not speak of your visit till I have an oppor¬ 
tunity of relating the elopement to a few more of our 
friends; they would enjoy it so much. ’ ’ Now here was a 
woman so lost to all sense of womanhood and womanly 
decency that she was willing to retail an abominable 
falsehood about a young woman for mere amusement. 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


91 


We often see a man who thinks he is the most en¬ 
lightened one among his friends upon some special 
point or subject, and not unfrequently he is correct, but 
it sometimes happens that there is a vast difference be¬ 
tween his pretentions and his attainments. When this is 
the case he usually tries to cover up the deficiency by 
loud talk and a flow of words without sense. I had 
a friend who thought he knew all there was to be 
known about mathematics, but who could not compute a 
sum in addition, or divide a principal into parts or frac¬ 
tions, yet he could foretell an eclipse or predict the appear¬ 
ance of a comet. He dwelt so much in the higher math¬ 
ematics that he never got below the clouds, and when he 
deigned to touch the earth he was like a being from 
another world, and seemed to be quite ignorant of the 
commonest branches of knowledge. So there are many 
persons who never think of doing or acting like common 
mortals and are so far removed from ordinary things 
that they seem to be formed for some other sphere of 
life. Our friends are often included among the most 
learned people of the world, and yet they never do any¬ 
thing worthy of being remembered. They can assist 
others but can do little or nothing for themselves. They 
have more useless information, and can do more useless 
things than you can imagine, but when it comes to doing 
anything for their own use they are utterly helpless and 
forlorn. We do not speak here of those who can help 
themselves when they are compelled to do so by neces¬ 
sity, but of those utterly destitute of all self-help or re- 


92 


THE FOOTS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


liance, and there are many such. They abound in 
large cities and you will see them going about in a list¬ 
less sort of a way and are only one degree above the 
beggar. 

When we consider the human race as a unit, there is 
probably no one but considers himself as that unit. He 
is of the first consequence, and thinks his own interest 
the chief thing to be considered. This kind of a fool is 
met with everywhere. He crops out in the most unex¬ 
pected places. If you go to the theatre he is sure to be 
there in a conspicuous place. He is attracted by the 
ballet and the burlesque opera. He laughs immoder¬ 
ately, for that draws attention. He ogles the dancers, 
for that gives him the air of being familiar with the 
bright particular stars, and he throws bouquets upon 
the stage as if he were a favorite among the troop. He 
is also seen at church, at the lecture room, at the con¬ 
cert, and dines out a good deal, but never asks a friend 
or a relative to share in his own hospitalities. He thinks 
it an honor to consent to receive those of his friends and 
relates the same anecdotes to all. I am not sure but he 
is the greatest fool out, for the reason that he is so sure 
he is not a fool, and thus practices a deception upon 
himself that deceives nobody else. 

Then there is the man of courtly manners, who 
never allows an opportunity to pass unimproved to show 
his affability and high breeding. He is, if anything, a 
greater fool than he thinks everybody else is. He is 
always affedting some oddity of manner or dress, and 


THE FOOTS ARE NOT ATT DEAD YET. 


93 


keeps up a connecting link with the times when the 
gentlemen went on their knees to the ladies and kissed 
their gloved hands in a species of mock admiration. 
He comes upon you with a perfect gush of address and 
deportment, ovenvhelms you with his delight at meet¬ 
ing you, and declares you are looking younger every 
year. He asks how your father is, who has been dead 
these ten years, and hopes you will make his compli¬ 
ments to your wife, from whom you have just been 
divorced, and after expressing a thousand civil things 
wishes you good morning and vanishes, to repeat the 
same performance to the next friend he sees with equal 
sincerity and fervor. This example of the species has 
usually many good points. He will ride with you, 
drink with you, smoke with you, and make the greatest 
ado in the world every time he sees you. He loves 
dearly to converse with the young ladies and tell them 
the manners and amusements of their grandmothers and 
he declares a thousand times over that nothing in the world 
gives him greater pleasure than to meet with the grand¬ 
children of his old acquaintances. He is all things to 
all men and a devotee to the fair sex. He frescos him¬ 
self all over until he looks like a chromo, and affedts a de¬ 
gree of style that seems to belong to a by-gone age. He 
is diffusive, deferential and polite to excess, and never 
allows you to imagine for a moment but that he is the 
best friend you have on earth. 

The man who attracts most attention is quite likely 
a greater fool than he who seeks only the applause of a 


94 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


narrow circle. I once knew a man who was always 
keeping himself before the public eye and the public ear. 
He was very fond of public gatherings, and nothing 
pleased him so much as to address an audience. It was 
no consequence what the objedl of the gathering was, 
or whether he was informed upon the subject to be 
discussed. The main thing was that it afforded him an 
opportunity of speaking or declaiming on the rostrum. 
Not that he had anything particular to say, but he could 
talk by the hour and say less than any one I ever knew. 
Occasionally he would come out in the newspapers with 
an article upon any topic that occupied the attention of 
the public, and everybody would laugh at his presump¬ 
tion. He never stopped to think what a fool he was 
making of himself, nor did he dream of the total disre¬ 
gard with which all his proclamations were received. 
He was a candidate for the state Legislature, and drove 
about the district as if the country was involved in his 
election. Speaking every evening for over a month he 
became so hoarse he could speak no more, and then took 
to the local paper and formulated a theory of law-making, 
by which everybody was to have what they wanted, 
and nobody was to be called to account for anything 
said or done within the last ten years. The hours of 
labor were to be reduced to a minimum, wages raised to 
a maximum, employment was to be furnished to the 
industrious, homes provided for the poor, the rich were 
to pay all the taxes and every one was to be happy. 
The constituency, I fear, scarcely appreciated this wise 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


95 


lawgiver, for when the ballots were counted he was left 
out in the cold, and his opponent, who had said nothing 
through the whole canvass, was eledted by a vote of two 
to one over the brilliant talker. This case illustrates 
in more ways than one the folly of the demagogue, who 
is the most consummate of all fools, and who never rises 
to the dignity of public affairs, and only brings upon him¬ 
self the contempt of all right-minded people. 

This brings us to another class of fools that appear 
upon the arena of political ambition, that is, the political 
fool. This example is a dangerous one. He gets into 
Congress and rides a hobby to gain notoriety. He 
seizes upon some subject that will appeal to instindls or 
to the passions and rides it recklessly over the highway 
of public opinion, regardless of the interests he may 
trample upon or the ruin he may produce. His views, 
of course, are narrow, for he looks at but one side of a 
single subject, and his motives are more than question¬ 
able, for he cares only for the notoriety it may bring him. 
There are not many of these fools in Congress, but they 
usually consume time and raise passions and expecta¬ 
tions that can never be realized. He usually comes from 
a sequestered portion of the country, and, indeed, feels 
almost as if he were a representative without a constituency 
and without responsibility. This kind of a fool is the 
most foolish fool of all the fools, for while he can accom¬ 
plish nothing but mischief, he poses as a reformer and 
seeks to ingratiate himself with the bigots and cranks, 
who are sufficiently numerous without his aid. He 


96 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


speaks of great principles, of constitutional maxims, of 
humanity, of progress and other high-sounding terms, 
with the ease of a man who does not understand what 
he is talking about and can therefore say anything, 
without a sense of accountability. He is the exclusive 
friend of the people, par excellence , the representative 
of great reformatory principles, and usually takes the 
greatest freedom with the most sacred relations of pri¬ 
vate life. His egotism and selfishness are conspicuous 
in his whole conduct, and he has no thought of making 
himself amenable to the ordinary rules of legislation 
or practical law-making. When the day comes for his 
final disappearance from the Senate or the House he is 
never heard of again. His name is forgotten, as if he 
had written it in water. 

Another specimen not very unlike the last two is the 
man who is always ready to adopt any cause or any 
opinion, provided it is popular. This kind of a fool is 
to be met with in all classes of society. There is nothing 
at which he will hesitate. He is ready to express his 
assent to any proposition that has a large following, 
regardless of its truthfulness. When he comes out on 
any subje<5t openly and boldly you may be sure it is 
popular. If it is a question of morals he is there all 
ready to become its propagandist. If it is a matter of 
politics he is sure to be on the winning side, if he can 
ascertain which side that will be. On all questions of 
religion, science, or literature his mind is a virgin blank, 
upon which you can write anything you like, for it 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


97 


matters not to him where he belongs. Were a man to 
ask him for his opinion upon a matter of current interest 
he would try to find out what the inquirer thought of it 
himself and ten to one he would agree with him. His 
opinions are all made for him, and his views are other 
people’s, not his own. He never reasons a subject nor 
examines any point of difference ; he leaves that for 
others and is content to adopt wdiat seems to be settled 
by his neighbors and acquaintances. There is no error 
too gross for him to sw r allow, provided other people 
swallow it. There is no bit of gossip or scandal too 
absurd for his belief, provided it is backed up by num¬ 
bers, nor does it matter to him who the victim is—friend 
or foe, he takes it on trust all the same. He never 
hesitates to give it an additional sting if it concerns a 
friend. He shakes his head—he always thought there 
was something wrong about him, and if it concerns an 
enemy he exclaims with an air of wise foresight, “/ 
told you so.^ When you meet him in the street he is 
loquacious, chatty, asks you for the news, finds out 
your opinion about anything that is going on and agrees 
with you in everything you say. If you see him in any 
public place he speaks to you of the weather, for it is 
safe to say anything on that subject, and if it should 
appear that you have a grievance of any kind he imme¬ 
diately tells you of his own and gives his sympathy and 
good wishes. There is no end to his congratulations 
upon the occasions of births, marriages or appointments 
to office, and his excessive grief at your misfortunes is 


7 


98 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


appalling, only you are aware it is not genuine. He 
seeks occasion to let you know that he is deeply inter¬ 
ested in your welfare and would like to do something 
to promote it when there is no need of his kindness, and 
never offers anything but words when you really need 
assistance. Nothing distresses him so much as to ask 
him for a favor, for he is not prepared for the subject; 
any other time than the present he would gladly befriend 
you. And so he passes through life, a sham, a mere 
pretence and a delusion. There is no doubt but that 
he is a fool, because he never by any possibility does a 
generous adt or entertains an independent idea on any 
subjedt unless by mistake, and if by any means he 
expresses himself decidedly everybody knows it must 
be by accident and so pass it over without comment. 

The man who tries to engage his friends and ac¬ 
quaintances in his resentments and enmities is a fool of a 
very troublesome type. He never hesitates to abuse 
your best friend right to your face, calling him the worst 
names and charging him with all manner of bad things. 
He speaks of your neighbor in terms of disgust, and 
spares neither sex nor age. He bores you constantly 
with his tirades, and if a person of any prominence is 
named he immediately launches out in a storm of invec¬ 
tive and never considers the character of the man or 
respedts the feelings of those who do not share in his 
unreasonable hatred. If a woman is mentioned he 
speaks of her low origin or of that of her family. If a 
man has been fortunate in business or has raised himself 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


99 


to an honorable position, he becomes the special objedt 
of his attacks. His own want of success sharpens his 
ill-will, and he looks upon the man he abuses as an 
affront to himself personally. When he goes into a 
friend’s house he takes occasion to express his surprise 
that such and such a man can hold up his head when 
he knows that he is of no account, and as for himself 
he would rather be a poor man than a rich one by dis¬ 
honest means. There is no end to his spite against 
those who have secured the prizes in the race of life, 
but he at least is glad that his conscience is clear if his 
purse is low. One day such a man called upon me and 
began his usual defamatory remarks about a mutual 
friend, who was a man of most excellent character, but 
who had committed the unpardonable sin of becoming 
rich. I asked him to wait a moment and I would con¬ 
vince him that he had misjudged our friend, and with 
that I excused myself to go into the next room, where 
our friend happened to be at the time. I took him with 
me back into the apartment where I had just left his 
reviler, and remarked that we had just been speaking 
about him and only wished he could have heard what 
we had said ; whereupon he replied that he was glad to 
know that, for he was sure nothing bad could have 
been said of him by two such good friends. The inci¬ 
dent had a strong effedt upon the fool, and he afterward 
acknowledged to me it was a lesson he should never 
forget. On another occasion I was in my library when 
a woman sent up her card. Upon meeting her she 


100 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


began to speak very ill of some people in very responsi¬ 
ble official positions who had disposed of some matter 
against her interests and wishes. I informed her that I 
knew the persons to whom she referred and I would 
have to ask her to desist from speaking of them in such 
disparaging terms, for I was sure they did not deserve 
it. When I had shown her that she was probably 
mistaken she begged pardon and the interview ended 
pleasantly. It seems to me that the proper way to treat 
fools of this description is to take some means of stop¬ 
ping them at once, by some movement that will show 
them the utter failure of their folly. 

There is a fool that comes upon you unaware like a 
thief in the night. You may be deeply engaged in 
business or study when he interrupts you and detains 
you from important matters to listen to some twaddle 
about his own affairs. It is impossible for him to con¬ 
ceive that anybody’s business can be of any consequence 
when compared with his. If you mention any other 
subject, he breaks in with something about himself, and 
what he has seen, or what he has done, is the endless 
subject of his talk. One of the great men whom I have 
known, talked about himself incessantly, and appeared 
never to dream that there was anything else to talk 
about. I have known men who could go to sleep and 
take a sound nap during one of these torrents of self¬ 
laudation, and so earnest was the egotist in holding 
forth, that he did not perceive that he was addressing a 
man who did not hear a word he was saying. But it is 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


101 


not everybody that has this means of protection against 
this species of fools. I remember a case where the per¬ 
son who was listening, or supposed to be listening, 
wrote two or three letters and an article for a newspaper 
during this lavish flow of egotistical drivel. There is 
no fool that will irritate you more by his irrational talk 
than one of this description. You know the man is a 
fool, and yet you have to bear all his nonsense unless 
you can shake him off in some way. I knew where a 
man of this kind was once cut off in the very outset of 
his self-praise. He was asked to go out and lunch. 
He could not resist the temptation, and every time he 
undertook to renew the subjeCt he was asked to take 
something, so his gab was stopped by filling his mouth. 
I do not know of any remedy for this kind of a fool, for 
he is one of those strange compounds, that the more he 
praises himself the more he is satisfied that other people 
believe him, and so he keeps on and on until at last he 
can speak no more forever; and I have often thought 
that when his tongue was silent in death the grave was 
the only place where it ever found rest. 

The man who sets himself to work on other people’s 
character and pretends that he is a model of deport¬ 
ment and candor, seems to be one of the class that 
we might call fools, for he is on all occasions seeking 
to make himself conspicuous and obtrusive. He is 
never easy except when in motion, and is always ready 
to run an errand or deliver a message if it will only 
bring him into notice. A fool of this kind, meeting a 


102 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


friend in the street, asked him if there was anything he 
could do for him. The friend replied yes, he could do 
him a very great sendee by never speaking to him again 
about himself or his performances. “Well,” replied 
the man, “ that is easily done if you will only move out 
of town where I cannot see you. “Ah,” said the friend, 

‘ ‘ you ask too much ; but if you will move away I am 
sure you will confer a great favor upon everybody who 
knows you.” 

Then there is the fool who is always telling of the 
exploits he has performed in the way of keeping his 
neighbors out of mischief. He reckons he has saved 
whole neighborhoods from complete ruin by his adroit¬ 
ness in reconciling people who were estranged from 
each other by misunderstanding. Now the man was 
himself the cause of most of the troubles, and the way 
in which he brought about peace was by acknowledging 
that he had lied about them, and that all he had said 
was only in a spirit of gossip and from no ill-will. There 
are thousands of these fools. They tattle and gossip, 
from no evil or malicious motive, but in a pure spirit of 
levity. They are to be found in every neighborhood, 
and are the scandal-mongers of the human family. It 
would be well if they could be put into a community by 
themselves, to use each other just as they desired until 
they got tired of their idle and pernicious habits. 

Another of this tribe is the man or woman who is 
always going to let you know something about a friend. 
They hint at a mystery, giving you to understand by a 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


103 


word or two that there is an act which, if revealed, 
would blast the reputation of that friend, but they do 
not wish to say more about it out of respect to his posi¬ 
tion or character. This blasting reputations by insinua¬ 
tion would be the most foolish, were it not the most 
wicked, of all the ways of the villifier. 

The most perverse of all fools are those who want to 
appear more than they are, and the most perverse of 
these is he who knowing himself to be a little man tries 
to make himself a great one. He is not only contempt¬ 
ible, but is really a source of annoyance to everybody 
else. He seeks on all occasions to make himself con¬ 
spicuous in public and to parade himself before those 
who are present in the attitude of a public character, 
but he only succeeds in making himself insignificant. 
When he attempts to be a public speaker he labors at 
the matter in hand as if he were blowing a pair of bel¬ 
lows, and his address is nothing but wind. He reminds 
you of a certain fish called the puffer, whose jaws are 
divided in the middle, and it possesses the faculty of 
inflating itself like a balloon by swallowing air. When 
the time comes for him to be silent he allows no oppor¬ 
tunity of speaking to escape him, and when it is proper 
for him to speak he is generally so ill prepared that he 
only sounds his own ignorance and want of sense. There 
is a great deal of flattery allowable where there is real 
merit, but in a case like the one just described it would 
be worse than falsehood to utter a word of commenda¬ 
tion. If, therefore, y^ou undertake to compliment a fool 


104 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


of this kind do not expect to be believed by any one but 
himself, and even he very often knows better. The 
greatest punishment for such a man is to let him severely 
alone, and to take no notice of his attempts to make 
himself conspicuous. 

There are other men who desire wealth for no other 
purpose but to be called rich and fashionable. This 
class of fools belong to the money-making people, who 
seek the objedt of their ambition through every sort of 
artifice they can devise, and by every sort of means that 
craft and ingenuity can furnish. There are no opera¬ 
tions that they will not risk in pursuit of their golden 
hobbies, and no undertakings, however gigantic, before 
which their ambition quails. 

There is no class of men more to be shunned, and 
none from whom less can be expected for any humane 
purpose. Among them are many instances of what 
appears to be native generosity and liberality, but 
beneath it all there is a deep and overruling principle 
of selfishness that is not revealed and often not dreamed 
of. When a man has gone into the market and bought 
up all the articles of a certain kind of food or clothing, 
and put a fortune of millions in his pocket at the expense 
of those who cannot afford to pay the fictitious prices 
that are by this means forced upon the necessaries of 
life, he is overjoyed at his success. He never thinks of 
the distress he has caused to the poor and of the ruin 
he has brought upon his neighbors. All he thinks of 
is the golden harvest he has wrung from honest toil and 


THE FOOTS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


105 


from the hands of the poor and helpless tradesman whose 
business has, perhaps, been destroyed. And he is not 
entirely alone, for there are those who think it is a 
very clever trick, a legitimate transaction, and hail the 
monopolist as a sharp, bright, first-class representative 
of business principles. Now I do not denounce this 
example as a crime against mankind, nor do I believe 
it an act of intended inhumanity, but I do call it a gross 
violation of social duty, and an outrage upon the ever¬ 
lasting principles of human equity. 

There are many persons whose sole aim in life seems 
to be the accumulation of riches. The acquisition of 
wealth is a proper and laudable pursuit, and when fol¬ 
lowed for the purpose of obtaining the means of living 
and of supporting one’s family, is a most meritorious 
and useful pursuit, but when it is sought after for the 
mere purpose of accumulation it is calculated to blunt 
the finer feelings and to concentrate the selfish propensi¬ 
ties upon the individual, and thus to make him indiffer¬ 
ent to the means by which it is attainable. The man 
who thinks only of accumulating wealth, is like one who 
never stops in the progress of his designs to think of 
any one but himself, and when he has as much as he 
deserves, or as much as he should desire, he is only the 
more anxious to increase his fortune and to make all 
the more for his own gratification. There is no form of 
avarice more greedy than that of incessant money¬ 
getting. It draws out the man in a constant effort 
to obtain more and more of what he has no need of, 


106 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


and engages him in a perpetual course of anxiety 
and fear. He is afraid that what he has may be 
destroyed, and is only happy when he has had a suc¬ 
cessful investment. The grand purpose of life is lost 
sight of, and the noble designs of the Creator are 
frustrated by the endless schemes of a mind wholly 
bent upon the things of sense. There is no man so 
utterly lost to all ideas of human welfare, and the ever 
recurring thirst for more gold is as distinctly marked as 
in the miser. 

Let us now consider another class of fools who are 
always on the lookout for something different from that 
of other people. If, for instance, one man has more land 
than he possesses he cannot rest till he has increased 
the number of his lots or his acres, and he gets no peace 
till he can look around and say, “ Behold my property ! 
I have more than my neighbors, and my houses and 
tenements are more numerous than those of any of 
my acquaintances.” When he comes to die he has 
only one lot, and all the exertions of his life are reduced 
to a very small one at that. It is not often that a man 
can exclaim that he is perfectly happy, or that he is 
quite satisfied with himself, but many men are content 
to live and die for the good of others. Take, for instance, 
the soldier in time of war. His life is in constant dan¬ 
ger, and he braves the havoc of a battle-field without 
fear or terror. He is an embodiment of undaunted 
courage and heroism, and lays down his life for the 
safety of others. So when a man is devoted to any good 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


107 


work he would rather sacrifice himself than have the 
good cause fail. Now these men are quite as selfish as 
the man who grasps at money as the god of his idolatry, 
but theirs is a noble selfishness, the desire of doing good 
for the sake of good, and this constitutes their happiness 
just as hoarding constitutes the happiness of the miser. 
The difference between the two is, however, as great as 
that between heaven and the pit. The one finds his own 
good advanced by the welfare of others, but the man 
who simply accumulates has no happiness in any one 
outside of himself. He denies himself and those who 
are dependent upon him the rich pleasure of a heart full 
of gratitude to the Giver of all good, and feels only a 
barren kind of delight in the cold recesses of a soul that 
has no vital spark to warm and animate it. There may 
be moments of pleasure in his gloomy spirit when his 
own ends are accomplished, but he is ever brooding 
over the rent-roll, or the state of the quotations, or the 
rise and fall of stocks. If he thinks of others it is only 
how he can make them serviceable to his purposes. He 
has no friend that he would not sacrifice, no companion 
that he would not juggle out of his means, and no rela- 

f> 

tive that he would not plunder if occasion offered. The 
man who lives only for accumulation is like a great 
snow-ball that grows by accretion, but is as cold as the 
blizzard that sweeps all within its frozen embrace. 
There is no pity, no compassion in his nature ; all the 
better instincts are blotted out, and all the sympathies 
that were born in him are turned into remorseless feel- 


108 


THE FOOLS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


ings for self. There is no character so low, so grovel¬ 
ling, so obdurate as this. There is no form of human 
depravity that equals it in downright hardness and 
sheer unrighteousness in the whole catalogue of selfish 
indifference. 

We have now finished what we wish to say about 
fools, and would add, by way of reflection, that the moral 
to be deduced from it all is, that while the fools are 
numerous, the good and sensible people are still more 
numerous and the wise ones are sufficient in numbers 
to keep the world in good condition for all. There are 
many evils to be corrected and a great amount of foolish¬ 
ness to overcome, but there is that in the aggregate of 
mankind that can produce upon the whole the best 
results out of this mingling of goodness, folly and 
wisdom, and whatever can promote the ultimate 
welfare and progress of society will flow from their com¬ 
bined action. When we contemplate the past and see 
the gradual but sure progress of mankind, we cannot 
but feel sure that folly has its part to play in the great 
drama of life, and that its existence is not without a 
purpose in the history of the world. Its inconveniences 
are not of a character to impede the general welfare, 
nor seriously to threaten the happiness of the race. It 
is one of those evils that can yield to treatment, and 
when the mental and moral parts of our nature are 
properly instructed we may reasonably hope to see it 
greatly modified, if not removed. At all events let us 
remember that our follies react upon others, and that 


THE FOOTS ARE NOT ALT DEAD YET. 


109 


their influence extends often far beyond the immediate 
object of attack, and if we would only pause to consider 
how foolish it is to be foolish it would go far to remove 
the danger. The w r orst point is that people do not stop 
to consider how wrong it is to be foolish and often how 
wicked, and so they get into a habit almost uncon¬ 
sciously of indulging in these evil ways. Stop when 
you go to speak of any one and think whether it is what 
you would like to have spoken of yourself ; and when 
you indulge in any particular views about yourself or 
your doings think how anybody else would appear to 
you who would do or say the same thing. I believe 
that self-reflection would remedy most of the cases 
referred to in this paper. When we see a man who is 
so utterly absorbed in himself that he cannot think out¬ 
side of himself, there is no remedy unless to let him 
severely alone by himself, and by seeing how he is 
shunned he may come to his senses. But generally the 
fools are not entirely lost to all reasonable means of 
saving them. One can scarcely compute their number, 
but let us hope that they will diminish with the progress 
of mankind, and that they will cease, in a sensible manner, 
to afflict humanity as w^e go onward in the march of social 
science. There is, I know, nobody so stubborn as a 
fool. He is, perhaps, above all other animals the most 
unmanageable, and yet he is not out of the pale of the 
human family. He is still a human being and there is, 
therefore, hope for him. We are trying our best to bring 
him into decent conditions, and perhaps he may yet turn 


110 


THE FOOTS ARE NOT ALL DEAD YET. 


out to be a useful man. We hope so ; at least, do not 
give him entirely over and blot him out of the roll of 
men. Give even him a chance to show that he deserves 
our sympathies, for certainly no one in the universe 
stands more in need of them than- himself. And while 
he stands there, an object of pity or scorn, he has that 
within which a little training may turn to some account. 
We can vote him a bore and a fool, but still a man and 
a brother. 


RE-INCARNATION; 


ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


Thk doctrine of reincarnation is not a new one. It 
is as old as some of the Oriental systems of thought. 
It is not a rational system of life or death, and derives 
no confirmation from anything in human conscious¬ 
ness. It is outside of reason and is not consistent with 
what we feel and see. We know of life as it is incar¬ 
nated at our birth, and of death that ends the physical 
existence of the body, but this does not extend to the 
spirit, which, differing from matter, is formed but once 
and that forever. It does not change its individual 
identity, nor pass into any other forms of life than its 
own. The body is its tabernacle while on earth, and 
then it passes into its native element, out of the material 
into the spiritual. Were we asked our reasons for this 
belief we would answer promptly that the body is a 
birth from the union of a male and female, and there is 
no spirit for more than a single birth. Were it subject 
to reincarnation, the same spirit would have a number of 
births, and a number of bodies corresponding to its rein¬ 
carnations, and its parents would be equally numerous. 



112 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCES. 

It might have an aunt for its mother and a brother for 
its father, which is such a paradox in natural law as to 
affront common sense and reason. There is no way 
provided by nature for these hybrid births. We know 
that the latter cannot generally beget their species. 
The spirit that comes and goes, and passes from one 
body to another cannot displace the spirit proper to that 
birth. There can be no body (of men) without a spirit, 
but if the doctrine of reincarnation be true, there must 
be many bodies that have no independent soul, and that 
must sink into an endless sleep at their death. There 
can be no resurrection, no hope, no life for them beyond 
the grave. Is not this the worst form of materialism, 
showing that there may be many men and women with¬ 
out a soul to be saved ? What a fearful thought this 
must be to the individual who does not know but that 
his body is used simply to take charge of somebody’s 
else spirit, and that he has none of his own. How do 
any of us know that we are the fortunate ones, whose 
spirit is to occupy other people’s bodies, and at last be 
saved from a death that consigns all the others to the 
endless confines of the tomb. According to this theory 
the number of the elect must be more scanty than in 
the Orthodox confession. This cannot be God’s law, it 
cannot be nature’s way. She gives every spirit a body 
and every body a spirit. 

Again, if it were true that the spirit is reincarnated, 
what is the good of a body to those unfortunate people 
who are used for the business of reincarnation ? What 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 113 


benefit do they derive from being used as beasts of bur¬ 
den for the short pilgrimage of earth, and why should 
they be called upon to bear the heat and labor of exist¬ 
ence without hope and without the least fault of their 
own ? They may practice every virtue, the purest piety, 
and bless all with whom they associate, but what does 
it profit them ? Why should they be doomed and lost 
to save perhaps a spirit that did not deserve so great a 
preference ? Indeed, the moral objections to reincarna¬ 
tion are manifold and insuperable. But let us now 
consider the physical impossibilities. 

Reincarnation is a re-birth of the same person ; or, 
at least, the soul or spirit, which makes the real person, 
gets another body in which to improve his passions and 
the grossness of his life. How the spirit becomes asso¬ 
ciated with the body we are not informed, but we do 
know that if reincarnated it is not the same body ; that 
lies mouldering in the grave, and ere long will not be 
distinguishable from the common earth that surrounds 
it. But the spirit survives, and goes, as we believe, into 
a different state of existence. The reincarnationist 
agrees to that, but he says that it takes possession of 
another body, and dwells in it, till it in its turn is worn 
out, when it passes into still another, and another, and 
perhaps many others before it is fit to enter the world of 
spirits. Here we have an example of physical law 
yielding to the influence of spirit upon matter, and using 
the latter for such purposes as spirit life requires. This 
spirit, for instance, in its first incarnation acquired 
8 


114 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


growth, knowledge and passions. It became the spirit 
of a full-grown man, with powers cultivated to a greater 
or less extent, and its faculties developed and enlarged 
by experience and observation. Its evil propensities 
may have marred its purity and lessened its enjoyment 
of spiritual things, but there it is, a fully developed 
spirit. Now suppose reincarnation to take place : what 
is its condition ? We know that no child is born with 
such a spirit, and that no child ever yet gave any evi¬ 
dence of having such a spirit; but, on the contrary, every 
child that was ever born is an infant in body, mind 
and soul, and it is only by training and education that 
it learns like all other children, beginning at the lowest 
grade of instruction, and reaches the rudiments of 
strength and knowledge after years of laborious study. 
One baby starts out like every other baby, with evety- 
thing to learn. He goes through life like the untold 
millions that have lived before him, and dies as they 
died, without the least consciousness of ever having- 
acquired anything or known anything before his birth. 
Is this not a physical impossibility ? Can the spirit 
become such an utter blank, such a dead sea of life, 
such a light that could be extinguished in darkness and 
ignorance, when it had once lived and learned and 
experienced ? There is no hope for life hereafter 
if this theory be true. What would become of 
the spirit when reincarnated with the world of spirits ? 
Would it not go there in the same state of igno¬ 
rance, in the same complete destitution of all spiritual 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


115 


advantages, as in case of reincarnation on earth ? 

We now come to consider the theory of reincarna¬ 
tion as a means of improving the spiritual condition of 
the soul. It is claimed that by this means it would 
become purified and better fitted for the life of the future 
world. But can this be true in view of the fact that 
each step in the development of nature leads to higher 
forms, to better conditions ? It is now almost univer¬ 
sally admitted that all organisms advance, and that the 
last form is a degree higher than the former. The grub 
becomes the butterfly, the germ becomes the fragrant 
and beautiful plant, the insect which floats in the atmos¬ 
phere appears to die, but in truth takes a higher form ; 
the strong and mighty animals seem to become extinct, 
but only pass to more complex forms and finer condi¬ 
tions, and when man passes the change called death, 
will he not ascend to a nobler form of existence ? 
Upward is the tendency of all things throughout the 
universe. Everything that has life under the uniform law 
of being is mounting onward, upward. Why, then, should 
the spirit of man, after the experience of a lifetime, 
reappear again in the ignorance of childhood, and the 
imbecility of an infant, and perhaps in the helpless¬ 
ness of an idiot, to go through the same probation, 
the same weakness, the same exposure to evil influences 
and corrupt surroundings that environ all things mortal ? 
The spirit has not the power of selection, and must rein¬ 
carnate its destiny in precisely the same manner as when 
it first took up its abode in a human form. But let us 


116 RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 

imagine it reincarnated. What advantage does it derive 
from the change ? It can recall nothing it has ever 
learned in its former life ; all its acquirements are lost; 
there is no memory of its skill, of its friendships, of its 
loves, of the sweet and tender relations that made life a 
blessing. Everything is swallowed up in darkness, 
oblivion and death. We have heard of persons who by 
some strange psychological revolution in the mind, have 
forgotten all they have ever known or learned, and had 
to reacquire their knowledge as they did before. Who 
ever started the idea that this was a blessing and not a 
misfortune, and that the soul thus robbed of its precious 
stores could be improved and rendered happier, better 
and nobler by such a catastrophe ? 

But look again at the philosophy of this theory, for 
I cannot call it a science. The human mind is a 
compound of thought and ideas. These are collected 
slowly and by much labor. The intuitive faculties are 
undoubtedly engaged in this work, but they contribute 
little to the grand result of human knowledge or char¬ 
acter. Study, meditation and reflection are the grand 
faCtors in this structure, and from the materials thus 
gathered systems of thought have been arranged and 
philosophies constructed. The science of astronomy, 
chemistry, those of sociality and government, have been 
gradually evolved and mankind have been rescued from 
ignorance and barbarism. It is by adding what has 
come from the past to the discoveries of the present, that 
civilization and well-being have reared the beautiful 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 1 IT 


things that constitute human progress. The birth of 
one truth has been followed by another, and still another, 
until we command the natural forces and compel them 
to do our bidding. In all this there is no going back 
to primeval ignorance and savage instincts, no retro¬ 
grading to childish conditions, no seeking in re-births 
the renewal of the same old conditions, no surrender of 
all the acquired knowledge of mankind to take on again 
the feebleness and the helplessness that prevailed when 
eternity w T as young, and the stars were only bright 
sparks in the heavens, to look down and twinkle at the 
ignorance and brutality of the earth. 

We have seen many good men who were refined and 
lived uprightly. We have seen others who acquired 
knowledge, and gave many instances of it to the world, 
in science, art and literature. What is to be the fate 
of such men ? Are they to become irrational, ignorant, 
and compelled to lose all, and again plod through the 
inanities of childhood and the temptations of life, only 
to repeat the task over and over ? The embodiment of 
the soul is the body, but the soul itself never loses its 
hold on life. It is a great treasure-house where learn¬ 
ing, knowledge and experience are stored up for present 
or future use. Is this treasure-house to be rifled by the 
hand of death, and the soul sent back to a new embodi¬ 
ment as empty and as feeble as the former? Why 
should the soul be robbed and plundered of its riches, 
only to begin the work again, and to meet with a fate as 
hard and cruel as those that have been already endured! 


118 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


Would you send a graduate to the rudiments of the 
alphabet ? Imagine a man who, after much labor and 
self-sacrifice, has secured a comfortable home for his 
family, and when the last touch has been put to the 
decoration, and the last piece of furniture put in its 
place, the whole structure is razed to the ground, and 
he is told that he must build again, and with the same 
certainty of destruction every time the job is completed, 
what inducement has such a man to the industry and 
sobriety requisite to secure a home, and to surround 
himself with its comforts, and would it not be mocking 
at his sufferings to tell him it was all for his improve¬ 
ment and discipline, in order to purify his life ? 

A man desires to live out his days. When he feels 
that the body is giving way to the destroyer the moment 
is full of solemnity. The soul, however, is immortal, 
and is full of new life when the body ceases to breathe. 
Now is the moment for the new birth, and the way 
opens for a new form. Shall it be another shell like the 
w r orn-out integument just thrown off, or shall it be the 
spirit form of an eternal life ? What is there in mere 
natural law that shall determine this question ? The 
great purpose for which the soul was created may help 
us in the solution. It is clear from observation and 
consciousness that it cannot be born into a new embod¬ 
iment of flesh. That has already been done. The 
soul has already rejected the earth form—worn it out 
and escaped from its shackles. It has borne its bur¬ 
dens, its trials, its struggles and its disappointments, 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 119 


and there is nothing in its experience that should induce 
it to take the old burden up again, to assume once more 
its dramatic history, to burst the cerements of the dead 
form, and put on the swaddling clothes of babyhood. 

When the material form collapses a new life is entered 
upon. The reincarnationist thinks it is a period of rest 
where the soul reposes in some condition of being so 
beyond all our conceptions that it is impossible to delin¬ 
eate it by any known symbol to human intelligence. 
There it remains for an indefinite period. Is it in this 
state a living soul, or a mere shadowy spectre like the 
wandering shades in the ancient Elysian Fields ? What 
are its qualities of mind or morals, what its employments, 
until it is again drafted into a new earthly embodiment ? 
These are questions beyond the theosophic vision. An 
idea so confused and so savoring of mythological obscu¬ 
rity is certainly not recommended by its reasonableness ; 
and it is scarcely credible that any one can derive any 
consolation from such an unsubstantial faith. 

On the other hand we have the most convincing 
proof that no such realm of probation is possible in the 
providence of God. When a world is made, it is made 
forever, or until it is worn out, and its materials go into 
other forms through the cycles of eternity. The flower 
blooms and dies upon its stalk, and appears again, but 
in quite distinct forms from its present one. And so 
with our bodies, although they may be incorporated 
over and over again, they never have the same personal 
identity. This is the law of matter. Not so with the 


120 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


soul. That is born but once, and that forever. It never 
loses its identity. “The eternal years of God” are 
her’s. 

The moment a man dies he is in a new position, not 
an old one. He has shuffled off the mortal coil, never 
to put it on again. The spirit now for the first time has 
an opportunity to assert itself freely, and without the 
impediment of the material form. It is no more to be 
worried with its needs, its ailments, its necessities and 
its sufferings. There is to be an end of its molecular 
action, of its nervous vibrations, of its muscular elas¬ 
ticity, and its various functions cease to animate its 
parts with life. It is not uncommon for it to remain 
for a long time in its form, but it is doomed to dis¬ 
solve into the natural elements. Such is the fate of 
the body. It is not to be supposed that these parts 
are to be reconstructed into a form like that which has 
perished. It may appear again and again in other 
forms but can never assume the same one. Now the 
spirit follows a different law, and requires no process of 
disintegration. It is immortal and indecomposable. It 
mounts upward, not downward, unless it goes to a plane 
of life fitted to a low grade of spirits. The soul becomes 
imbued with a grand sense of life. It sometimes returns 
and reports its messages and its new life. No spirit 
and no man has ever yet told of its reincarnation, and 
what were its former embodiments, pursuits and con¬ 
duct, and if any spirit has ever undertaken this task it 
is to mock and mislead its dupes. The spirit returns 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 121 


but always as an entity, a being living in its new home— 
the spirit world. It goes direct from earth to spirit life. 
No place of rest is spoken of. The spirit is never adver¬ 
tising for a new body to live again on earth. No such 
spirit has ever been heard of. In all the descriptions of 
spirit life no such being as a spirit waiting for a reem¬ 
bodiment is mentioned. It is really difficult to conceive 
of anything so far from human experience. And if any 
spirit has ever returned with such a message or preten¬ 
sion, a very few well-directed questions would expose 
the fabric of imposture, and show that the communica¬ 
tion probably came from a spirit as false as that of an 
India fakir, or from the blasphemous trash of Eastern 
idolatry. 

The book called “ Lumen,” written by Flammarion, 
is written in the vein of a philosopher, and is deeply 
tinctured with the mystic spirit of transcendental 
physics. The mathematical and astronomical learning 
it displays is a remarkable reach of human thought, but 
in no sense is it to be considered of spiritual origin ; 
and the vast conceptions of time and space apply to the 
material universe and have no relation to the spiritual 
world ; and when the author makes the spirit speak of 
traveling through illimitable stellar spaces he is describ¬ 
ing a strange psychological picture entirely outside of 
the immortal state of spirit existence. The journeys 
and reincarnations described partake of the limitations 
of time and space. The spirit goes about like the wan¬ 
dering Jew, without end and without meaning, and the 


122 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


whole picture appeals only to the marvelous in human 
nature. Of course no one will receive the book as a 
spirit communication, and notwithstanding its amazing 
brilliancy and ingenuity, it is of human origin and con¬ 
ception, like the w T orks of Jules Verne, or Fontenelle’s 
Dialogues on the plurality of the worlds. The descrip- 

• 

tion which the spirit “ Lumen ” gives of its own rein¬ 
carnations, is a daring attempt upon human credulity, 
or else it is a covert satire upon that obsolete doctrine. 
He says, for instance, that there are men on one of the 
planets with three thumbs and no fingers on their hands, 
and three great toes on the heel instead of on the fore¬ 
part of the foot, and instead of ears on either side of the 
head, they have but one ear in the form of a conical 
pavilion set on the top of the head like a little hat. On 
other stars he informs us that the men at first sight 
seem to have neither heads or limbs, nor to be endowed 
with organs of sense, and in another, there is no sex or 
marriage, and it was on this last planet that he had one 
of his reincarnations, and saw himself actually there 
where he had lived 172 years before, and was endowed 
with the power of flying. On one of the planets where 
the same spirit w T as incarnated five hundred years ago, 
human beings resembled seals, and on another he was 
incarnated in a tree rooted to the ground, and trees were 
its only inhabitants—a world of men plants. This hap¬ 
pened 1500 years ago, and 2400 years before that he was 
an inhabitant of Orion, where he resembled a plant ten 
metres in stature, without leaves or flowers, and there he 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


123 


met with and knew the spirit since incarnated on earth 
under the name of Allen Kardec. And in still another 
world the cold is so intense that the blood in the 
veins of men is colder than ice. 

On a globe in the system of Sirius, human eyes are 
so organized that in certain cases they can strike dead, 
as by a stroke of lightning, the victim on whom they 
concentrate their will-power, and on a neighboring star 
all the beings are incombustible, and on another thought 
may be read on a special organ which occupies very 
nearly the place of our forehead. Now all these things 
are described by a spirit who pretends to have been 
reincarnated in each of these worlds, and in many more 
besides, and to have lived through all these forms of 
life in different planets and systems of worlds from the 
beginning, and the journey is as unfinished as ever and 
the soul is still moving on in a ceaseless round of incar¬ 
nations and reincarnations ad infinitum. The whole 
series appear like the erratic wanderings of a ship at 
sea without a rudder or a compass, touching here and 
there by chance at some strange and unexpected island 
or headland inhabited by monsters and misshapen 
creatures, where the vegetable productions are human 
beings, and the forms of men and women fly in the air 
or live upon the water. Such fantasies are the growth 
of a sombre imagination given over to the morbid con¬ 
ditions to which a belief in reincarnation reduces the 
cerebral functions. Were any one to utter sentiments so 
destitute of all reason, no one would for a moment con- 


124 RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


sider them fit subjects for consideration. It is only the 
strangeness that strikes the mind and the wonderful air 
of mysticism that gives it a hearing, and men and 
women otherwise well poised become crotchety or 
infatuated rath the puzzle, until nothing can stagger 
their faith or belief in one of the most impractical theo¬ 
ries that ever duped the mind or bewildered the brain 
of mankind. The occult theosophist believes in it 
because it is hidden. He can revel in the mystic realms 
of the ancient world, and perhaps believe it as sincerely 
as did the India devotee, who bowed before his fetich 
idol and worshipped an image as ugly as it was insen¬ 
sate. 

The end of all life is to leave some souvenir of itself, 
some memorial of what it has accomplished, and no one 
has ever been so low in the scale of being but he has 
done or said something to perpetuate his memory, at 
least to himself. The psychometrist informs us that 
every thought and act is indelibly registered in the 
essence of the soul. Now, if this be so, whence comes 
it that the reincarnated soul is as destitute of any 
former experience or impressions as if it were a virgin 
blank ? Surely if it retains the impressions of its own 
action and histor}^ there would be something more than 
the mere glimmer of what had been so transcendently 
important as a whole life of experience. What has 
become of its struggles, of its triumphs or defeats, of its 
loves, its hatreds, of the enterprises, great or small, in 
which it had been engaged, and which were engraven 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


125 


on its memory as by the hand of fate ? These are 
as imperishable as the soul itself, and we know that no 
one is born with such record and with such a conscious 
history of a former existence. This ought to be enough 
to decide the question and to show that the doctrine of 
reincarnation cannot be true. 

It is also true that the whole family of man can be 
ranged under two heads—those who are gifted with rare 
intelligence, and those who are gifted with less intelli¬ 
gence but with more physical force. These seldom 
meet in the same person in their highest development, 
while there is a still larger number than either that con¬ 
stitute the ordinary standard. There are many causes 
of these varieties. Some of them are pre-natal and 
hereditary. Some are the result of habit and education, 
of custom and occupation ; but perhaps nothing is so 
influential in the ultimate effect upon human beings as 
the inward life of the spirit. It is this hidden and invis¬ 
ible essence that moulds the outward and establishes 
the character and turn of mind. One man has a genius 
for art, another for literature, and others for science. 
The great variety of aptitudes among men fit them for 
the various purposes of life. The builder, the machin¬ 
ist, the engineer and the laborer, those who fill the 
offices and perform the duties of household industries, 
are all fitted for their position by the spirit which ani¬ 
mates all and directs all. These qualities are often 
transmitted from parent to child. Many trades in Japan 
are confined to families for generations, and hence a 


126 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 

marvelous perfection of workmanship. The man grows 
into his work and the apprentice becomes the finished 
artisan. The painter draws a design and by dexterous 
use of his hand can embody it in a picture. But it is 
seen that all these have to be learned from the rudi¬ 
ments or first elements. There is no memory of former 

excellence, and none of the skill that comes from it. 

* 

All is new, all is strange, and the method of doing 
things has to be learned. The school boy gets his les¬ 
sons for years before he has even an ordinary education. 
Some learn easier than others. So some have stronger 
bodies and quicker movements, and the physical quali¬ 
ties differentiate them as much as the mental endow¬ 
ments. Would it not be as reasonable to hold that 
these physical distinctions come from former incarna¬ 
tions as the spiritual or mental ones ? And yet no one 
will set up such a claim as this, for all will admit that 
the material form goes into the grave and perishes as 
the grass. 

The most conclusive point against reincarnation is 
its absolute impossibility of proof, and the entire uncon¬ 
sciousness of it in the human soul itself. Existence is 
the highest fact in humanity. It is the particular thing 
that absorbs all others. It is the last thing a man for¬ 
gets. He may forget anything sooner than that he 
lives, and for it he would sacrifice all else, and should 
he give his life for any cause it would only make it more 
memorable still. When life expires it is only the body. 
The soul lives on. It is that indeed which constitutes 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


127 


the life, the ego , or inner self. In it are all the expe¬ 
riences of life, all the memories, and all the deeds of 
that life are here recorded as in a book. It is an 
imperishable page. It survives the death of the body. 
Think of it being born into another body without a 
memory, without a particle of all it knew and expe¬ 
rienced. Is it possible that the chief part of the soul 
can be blotted out and the soul itself sent back like a 
criminal to the tread-mill, to work out by weary and use¬ 
less steps the hard toil of another life, naked, ignorant 
and weak as that of an unborn infant ? Is it not an hor¬ 
rible idea, against which the heavens and the earth 
raise their voices to the highest pitch ? 

When we consider what has been accomplished by 
the steady efforts of successive generations, we are 
astonished that any one should propose the idea of rein¬ 
carnation, for it is opposed to all aspirations for a better 
world. The most that can be expected from it is to go 
on indefinitely from one human being to another, and 
when the changing metamorphosis shall cease to trans¬ 
figure the same being he is no further advanced than 
when he was first born and first died. The change is 
only one of form, and how many forms the spirit is to 
use up before the end is reached no one can tell. No 
man can say, “I am the last transfiguration, and my 
numerous bodies lie in the dust like so many cast-off 
garments.” There is a whole wardrobe of them, and 
but one soul or spirit has occupied them all, one after 
the other without any pretence that the spirit that has 


128 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


wasted so much material is advanced an iota in any 
respect. It is all sheer conjecture to say that it is any 
better for the extravagance of such a protracted series 
of lives and organizations. When has nature ever com¬ 
mitted such a great waste of organized substance upon 
an identical individual, building up structures to disor¬ 
ganize them again, putting old wine into new bottles, 
neither to preserve it nor to add to its flavor ? The 
thing is incredible on its face. It is like dressing a fine 
lady and then destroying her robes, over and over again 
and again to improve her beauty, without adding to her 
character or her worth. It converts nature into a haber¬ 
dasher, and the soul into a dummy to show them off. 
This is not the way of natural law in anything else. 
She does her work on man once for all. She intends 
him to live and die and go to heaven, there to be 
known for what he is and for what he can do. He will 
not be asked how many forms it took to make him what 
he is, or how often he had found himself in other 
people’s bodies, and thrown them off only to take on 
another of the same kind. There is no such travesty 
of human life to be enacted on high—no such parody of 
human consciousness to be caricatured in the grand 
drama of the heavens. Far otherwise will it be with 
the scenes of immortal joy and happiness. The spirit, 
emancipated from its earthly condition, will recognize 
its own identity as that which lived and acted in the 
mortal sphere but once in its life, and once in the pass¬ 
age through death. The aroma of the summer land 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


129 


will not be tainted with the moisture of the often-visited 
charnel house, nor resound with the story of repeated 
births on the earth from which it came. 

I do not believe that the body was ever intended to live 
but one life on earth, and the spirit that animated it to have 
but one period of human existence. The most learned 
man that ever lived could not be sure that his acquire¬ 
ments would avail him anything if he were to pass into 
different material forms after death, because the very 
faCt that he was to be born again with another body 
w r ould paralyze all effort and discourage all progress. 
There is no form of existence that appears more rational 
than that of one life on earth for each. They are united 
for better or for worse, till death do them part, and there 
is ho hope anywhere that the spirit after being divorced 
from the body will ever be permitted to wed another 
form, and perhaps many other forms, before it reaches 
that degree of perfection when it is fit for heaven. If the 
end to be accomplished were to prepare the spirit for its 
home in the other world, why not use the body with 
which it was born for that purpose ? It has become used 
to its functions, it has lived and learned with its facul¬ 
ties, and accumulated all it knows with its senses. If 
it has ever loved or enjoyed anything it was with that 
body; if it has acquired any information, any expres¬ 
sion, any power of reasoning, it was with its intellect, 
and if there is any more to be learned, or any 
higher form of living to be attained, surely it would be 
much wiser to keep right on with the organization of 
9 


130 RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


the first birth, than to lose all the past and the fruits of 
a long life of labor and study to begin at the beginning 
again. The reincarnated life does not commence where 
the other life breaks off—does not take up its gains 
and experience, and continue from that point the work 
of progress, with all of the past as a foundation for still 
greater refinement and growth. If it be said that by 
passing through these different lives the spirit is puri¬ 
fied, just as a liquid is by passing through the alembic, 
or as water is by passing through a filter, the opposite 
is just as sure to be the case. If the spirit of a man of 
reasonably good life is not ready for the other life, why 
send him back, not to a fitter body, but to a similar one, 
where the purifying process will be an experiment, to 
say the most of it, and perhaps an unfortunate one ? 
The resolutions and virtues of a good man should not 
be trifled with, and the evils and temptations which he 
resisted in one form may be too much for him in 
another ; while the bad man, with the strong bias to 
evil, will not be likely to improve with a new lease of 
life. The bad man will be sure to be worse, the good 
one has greater reason to fear than to hope. The man 
who asks for another body will be sure to get one that 
he is not satisfied with. He cannot pick it out, but 
must take what is given him. Is he more likely to be a 
better man in the one than in the other ? The great 
majority of men are not satisfied with the one they have, 
and if there is any truth in reincarnation many of them 
must be in other bodies than those they first used. Is 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


131 


there any evidence that they are better or worse, more 
or less satisfied ? Is it not true that men are generally, 
if not universally, dissatisfied, and no one is any better 
than he should be, and the mass a great deal worse ? 
We can see nothing to make us believe the principle 
has any existence. The uniform law of development 
goes on incarnating life in her multiplied forms, but 
there is no evidence that the same life is transmitted 
from one to another. There is a sharp line of demarca¬ 
tion ; one life is distinct from all others; there is no 
blending one with the other, so as to make the chain of 
life continuous, as if it were without break or interrup¬ 
tion. Each form comes into being and disappears. Its 
offspring does the same; but the form of each is individ¬ 
ualized, and while the race is perpetuated the individuals 
who compose it pass into oblivion. We cannot see in 
the generation of living beings any, the slightest, indi¬ 
cation of the spirit of one creature passing into another. 
The only exception is when the traits of character are 
transmitted, or the likeness of form or features. There 
is a striking resemblance observable between members 
of the same family, and after making allowance for sur¬ 
roundings and education, there can be no doubt but 
that heredity is a principle in nature. *The offspring 
always belong to the same species as the parents, and 
even where the race has been crossed for the production 
of a modified form, it dies out of itself, or reverts back 
to that of the original stock if left alone. So it is with 
particular idiosyncrasies ; they run through whole gen- 


132 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


erations or families and are reincarnated in new per¬ 
sons, but each with a distinct identity of its own. This 
is seen in a great variety of instances. The man of 
strong will and marked features will quite likely trans¬ 
mit some of the same kind to his children. A woman 
of gentle and refined nature will undoubtedly infuse a 
portion of herself into the child she bears, and it will 
often exhibit the same traits and dispositions. There 
are, of course, exceptions. The children of good par¬ 
ents often turn out badly, and those of bad parents the 
reverse. Think of Marian Erie in “Aurora Leigh,’’ 
and of the hero in the same wonderful poem, each 
of them, at the extremes of sordid and affluent life, 
exhibiting those grand elements which were born in 
them, and which came neither from inheritance nor 
family. Yet we are not ready to acquiesce in all the 
sayings of the philosophers on the subject of heredity. 
The mere fact that the son resembles the father, and 
that the same disposition is observable in repeated 
instances of whole families, only goes to show what 
all will admit, that while the dodtrine has many 
fa< 5 ts to sustain it, there are many to overthrow it. 
If, for instance, you say that the son resembles the 
father in a particular instance, in how many more is 
this resemblance wanting, and if the particular mental 
traits are prominent in some families, in how many 
others are there differences ? To account for these 
appearances it is necessary to be very guarded in our 
conclusions. We will probably be unable to come to 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 133 


any decision that can be sustained by a general 
concurrence of fadts, and it is therefore best to await 
further developments before settling the limits of our 
final views. 

The remcarnationist asks whence comes the differ¬ 
ence in men and children of the same family. One man 
is bright, another is dull; one child is superior in 
mind to its brothers and sisters. Can you account for 
this, except by supposing that they have lived and 
learned before, and have reached this superiority by 
former experience ? All things differ from each other. 
The breeder of stock can turn out just such animals as 
he wishes by the exercise of selection. Heredity and 
transmission account for the difference of one from 
another in the same species. So men are moulded by 
environment and circumstances which differentiate them 
from each other. How can it be said that a man is born 
again and again in order to account for the dissimilar¬ 
ity ? It might as well be said that the race here is born 
again, and that the finest grade of sheep and Alderney 
cows have passed through repeated births. These 
exhibit such marked distinctions as if they belonged to 
another species. It is simply the result of breeding by 
selection. The animal kingdom will exhibit such dif¬ 
ferences by natural selection, and it is in this way that 
the evolutionist accounts for the growth of species in 
the same genera. 

The highest qualities in men of the same family 
come, probably, from psychological conditions of parents. 


134 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 

We know that birth-marks are not uncommon, so cer¬ 
tain traits of mind may be effected by a temporary 
exaltation in the mental condition of parents. An 
instance of this kind was where the father had imbibed 
a passion for dramatic performances, and became almost 
wild with enthusiasm on witnessing the impersonations 
of Rachel when she was in this country. A daughter 
born under such circumstances exhibited extraordinary 
dramatic talent, which she undoubtedly inherited as a 
psychical evolution peculiar to the conditions of parental 
feeling at the time. And no doubt influences of this 
kind are far more operative than we imagine, and 
account for many striking distinctions which differen¬ 
tiate members of the same family. At all events, the 
result argues a cause, and that cause cannot be found 
by any assumption that different embodiments of the 
same spirit have produced it, for it would be still more 
difficult to trace any superiority of individuals by going 
back and back to former embodiments, as it would be 
to trace a superior instance in the breed of an Alderney 
cow to its spiritual progenitors. 

Indeed, the position of the reincarnationist is so 
wholly unfounded in anything we know, or in anything 
we can think, as to be inadmissible in the category of 
human knowledge or human philosophy. 

We now come to consider the general character that 
may be supposed to arise from the theory of reincarna¬ 
tion, for if it be true that the spirit passes into more than 
one form it is necessary to show that such a process 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 135 


influences character and elevates it, or the reverse. 
When a man is convinced that he is himself and nobody 
else, he has every motive to do the best he can for his 
happiness and improvement. He knows that all he gets 
and keeps is for himself alone. He is, therefore, sure 
that what he earns belongs to himself and that any im¬ 
provement in knowledge will be for his own benefit and 
not for somebody’s else. Whatever goes to make up 
character, whatever goes to elevate thought and increase 
the reflective powers of his mind or the moral virtues 
of the heart, will all remain to make him a man and a 
spirit of higher and purer aspiration. Now here is the 
grand motive upon which to build character, to refine it 
and to make it worthy and fit for the companionship of 
the highest and the best. But how does the doCtrine of 
reincarnation affect this great principle? How can a 
man aspire to the best and highest when he is doomed 
to abandon all he has done, all he has accomplished, 
and take upon himself the burden anew, as if he had 
never lived and never learned anything? No man who 
has been honest and diligent would like to throw 
away all he has made by a careful and laborious life, and 
begin again its trials, its privations, and its struggles. 
We are not so constituted, and nature never designed 
that we should be content to commit an act so derogatory 
to all reason and common prudence. We therefore 
conclude that there can be no foundation in anything we 
know of natural law or of God’s methods to justify the 
theory of reincarnation. 


136 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


There is no phenomena affecting man’s condition 
and progress that has not something to do with evolution. 
The man is not born who is not affected by its operations, 
and if he passes from one state of existence to another, 
or from one body to another, it must be in accordance with 
its laws. When we contemplate the condition of society 
at any particular period, we will find that all progress 
has been developed by way of evolution, and the strong¬ 
est argument against reincarnation is that it is involution 
or a backward movement, and therefore against natural 
law, or rather against the evolutionary forces of nature, 
and therefore untrue. When we see a man pass from 
one step of degradation to another we say of him that he 
is on the downward track and is likely to lose the most 
precious purposes of life, or when we behold any one 
going onward in a career of usefulness, developing the 
qualities of manliness, goodness, charity and wisdom, we 
say of him that he is ascending to higher purposes in 
life, and consequently evolving the better nature of his 
spirit, the higher qualities of the soul. In the one case 
we witness the progressive destruction of a human being, 
in the other his gradual unfoldment to an angel. From 
these points of difference many consequences flow that 
illustrate the power of development. If, for instance, you 
see a man go to work in a methodical way to regulate 
his life according to certain fixed rules, you may be sure 
of the result. He comes out just where his conduct 
brings him, as sure as if he himself had designed it. There 
is nothing so sure as the operations of this great principle. 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 13T 


So, if on the other hand a man has no purpose in life, no 
aim in his plans, no motive, no design in his efforts, he 
will accomplish little or nothing. Why is this but that 
the principle of development is disregarded and ignored ? 
There can be no development where there is little or no 
purpose. Give a man a plan to work upon and he ac¬ 
complishes a grand result. A builder erects his edifices 
by a list of specifications and drawings, a mechanic con¬ 
stants his machinery from designs that have been care¬ 
fully prepared beforehand, and they work accordingly, 
quite sure that the building in one case and the machine 
in the other will evolve into beautiful and perfect realities. 
It follows as the light does the darkness. Out of the 
mysteries of the unknown there ever roll the evolutions 
that minister to our comfort and refinement, and that pro¬ 
duce all natural forms, all we see or hear or feel, all we 
know or learn, all we desire or hope for. A thousand 
things will perish in the dreams of speculation, while the 
grand and mighty works of growth and increase will con¬ 
tinue to refine and bless mankind. 

We now come to consider the dodtrine of Karma, 
which is but another name for reincarnation. It supposes 
that the spirit has passed through many forms and an 
almost infinite series of existences. The form of one ex¬ 
istence dies out, and the spirit passes into another, and 
still another, repeating the act for thousands of years, 
and in each case receiving an experience peculiar to 
that life. These different experiences accumulate in a 
final form of existence that is to be spent in the astral life 


138 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


or rudimentary sphere of the world of spirits, wdiere it is to 
receive the highest perceptions of spiritual truth. Here 
the soul finds its astral form and travels no more upon 
the earth plane seeking new embodiments in almost end¬ 
less succession. Its wanderings are brought to an end. 
Its experiences are brought to a point that ensures it the 
advantage of a good condition in the other world, and it 
can begin to realize the benefits conferred by so many 
earthly pilgrimages through so many human organisms. 
Now this whole theory rests on mere assumption. There 
is not in the nature of man a single principle that justifies 
it, nor is there in the world of conscious being a single 
fa<5l to confirm it. Karma has no existence outside of the 
imagination, or the dreamy reveries of a highly wrought 
temperament. The most that can be said of it is that 
it is a fascinating scheme by which we undertake to ac¬ 
count for some psychological facts in human experience. 
The mind is naturally inclined to adopt any theory, 
however extravagant, that will account for its intuitions, 
and when a theory which seems to meet any particular 
phase of our mental conditions is presented, it is apt to 
receive a favorable hearing. When we feel that anything 
new is familiar to us, the phenomenon is wonderful and the 
facft strikes us as a circumstance that must be accounted 
for in a manner still more wonderful than the fa<5l itself. 
The occult meaning of phenomena is a matter of pro¬ 
found and laborious study. The chemist experiments 
on the subject of his science till he finds an answer to 
his difficulties, and the electrician never rests until he has 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 139 


tested his theories; the great astronomer predicted that 
the planet Neptune would be found in such a point of the 
stellar spaces, and gave its dimensions and density by 
investigations and deductions from observed facts and 
mathematical calculations of the most abstruse character. 
That is the scientific method, but whatever relates to 
the spiritual nature is not supposed to be subject to the 
same rules of proof. This, however, is a mistake. The 
spirit has its laws, which are as uniform as those of 
science. If, for instance, we are told that the soul is 
immortal, we instinctively look at the statement as one 
of fact, and we inquire if there be a soul. What proof 
is there on this point ? and next what are its attributes 
and mode of action ? Having ascertained these circum¬ 
stances, we next consider its relation to the body, its 
influence upon the life, and its emancipation by death. 
When we have considered all these and such like ques¬ 
tions we come to a conclusion. But we do not reach 
this conclusion until we have taken into consideration 
many other circumstances, such as our own conscious¬ 
ness, the arguments drawn from the reason of the sub¬ 
ject, and the evident design of the Creator. Then, too, 
the voices that come to us from our inner life are 
all one way and proclaim with the greatest unanimity 
and positiveness not only the life beyond the grave, but 
that it is eternal in duration. With this body of evi¬ 
dence, we dwell with delight and confidence upon the 
principle of immortal existence in the soul. But with 
regard to Karma, nothing of this kind is possible. The 


140 RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


body is not to be ignored any more than the soul. It is 
in the image of the Creator, and is the temple of an 
everlasting being. It is made for that purpose, and 
is the form in which the soul works out its immortal 
destiny. Were it only a thing to be used without a soul 
of its own, would it have been formed so as to give no 
indication of that design ? Would it have been organ¬ 
ized so as to give every indication that it had a soul of 
its own, individually and personally? Would it have 
been formed with a distinct consciousness of its own 
identity, of its own immortality ? And would the wis¬ 
dom of the Almighty have displayed itself in giving it 
thoughts that were so false about its own integral self¬ 
hood, its own precious and eternal spark, from the throne 
of the common and equal Father of all his children? 

But let us see if there is any foundation in the nature 
of things for this extraordinary belief. Nature has 
wisely arranged that every individual shall have certain 
marks that distinguish him from every other being. No 
two men are alike. No two things, however similar, 
are the same. Diversity is the order of nature, and the 
whole universe is only a collection of dissimilarities, gov¬ 
erned by uniform laws, and each performing its part in 
a harmonious whole. If the spirit is an exception to 
this rule there is nowhere any evidence of it. There is, 
perhaps, nothing in which mankind differ more than 
in the spiritual capacities. No two are just alike in 
temperament, thought, emotion, feeling and ideas. All 
the different phases of life spring from the different con- 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


141 


stitutions of men’s spirits. All the inequalities, all the 
conditions and all the contrasts we behold, come from 
spiritual distinctions. Selfishness, friendship, disinter¬ 
estedness, love, affection and enmity, benevolence, grati¬ 
tude and virtue, insolence and tyranny, flow from the 
spirit of man and make up the sum of human happi¬ 
ness and misery. Now, if it be true that the spirit or 
soul is the same in each individual that it was thousands 
of years ago, in what region of the earth has it been 
traveling, and to what end has it been working, for it 
appears as far off as ever from its best estate ? If it has 
required thousands of years to bring it to this state, it 
will certainly require several millions more to advance 
it to the verge of the astral world. This enormous 
waste of time and material is not very like the other 
operations of God or nature. The natural law com¬ 
pletes its work and goes on to new creations. When 
the tree reaches maturity it sinks into the earth, and 
when the plant has bloomed and blossomed it dies on its 
stalk. Its successors do the same;,none of them are 
animated by the same spirit of vitality, by the same sap 
that nourished the others. The spirit is subject to its 
own laws, but these are visible as those of matter. Does 
any human being ever feel, unless he is insane, that he 
has lived in another body before, or has he the slightest 
consciousness that he will exist in any other body after 
he gets through with his present one—perhaps after an 
interval of hundreds and thousands of years—and where 
is it in the meanwhile ? Is it like the wheat that has 


142 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


been imprisoned for three thousand years in the sarcoph¬ 
agus of an Egyptian mummy ? or is it like the fathom¬ 
less ocean, so deep that no influence can reach it ? What 
chance is there for preparing it for astral life and spirit¬ 
ual enhancement ? 

There is no reason to suppose that the spirit ever 
reaches its true life till it gets to the life immortal. 
There it is free from the infirmities of the flesh and the 
weaknesses and temptations of mortal existence. Would 
it not be a nobler kind of incarnation to pass it at once 
to that fuller life where it can develop its powers and 
capacities without the drawbacks to which it is sub¬ 
jected here? Why should it be made to pass through 
an indefinite number of forms on the earth when it can 
go to the world of spirits and find its native element, 
which is the most congenial to its nature, and the most 
vivifying to its growth and development? The incar¬ 
nation of the spirit in another body under the same 
conditions surely will not be so likely to promote its 
purification and redemption as if it were lifted up out of 
these environments into a higher plane of being, where 
the temptations of this life would no longer mislead or 
betray its inclinations, but where, on the contrary, beings 
can be found who have developed already in the ways 
of purity and character, and who also would give sup¬ 
port to their associates in their efforts for higher and 
better conditions. There is nothing in the wisdom of 
reason or consistency that can justify or even tolerate 
the idea of immuring the soul again and again in the 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


143 


entombment of a body, such as it has just got rid of. It 
is like putting a man in irons repeatedly after he had 
expiated his offence by serving out the sentence which 
condemned him. There is but one object that can be 
urged in behalf of this durance vile, and that is the bene¬ 
fits to be derived from the discipline. But this discipline 
is hopeless in the case of a human being whose soul is 
already emancipated from the limitations of the body, 
and from the imperfections of a mundane life. How 
can it be supposed that the Creator ever contemplated 
the idea of casting it back into a similar body through 
the process of an immaculate conception, of which 
neither the father nor mother had the slightest knowl¬ 
edge or participation ? No parent of either sex will 
afford a single affirmation to such a birth or to such a 
babe. The discipline of the spirit is a matter of the 
very highest importance, but no one can doubt but that 
the present life exercises a great influence upon its con¬ 
dition and destiny. If that influence has been salutary, 
there is more danger than safety in repeating the experi¬ 
ment. If, on the other hand, it has been evil, the sooner 
the spirit gets away from it the better. You will only 
continue the same evil by perpetuating and fettering the 
soul in a new form or body, without changing its sur¬ 
roundings, which are still to be earthly, and have already 
shown their baleful effect. 

When we consider the world, there is nothing that 
strikes us with more dismay than the universal preva¬ 
lence of evil. It is seen in every phase of life. There 


144 RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 

is no one exempt from its blighting influence. Its effedt 
upon our condition and our character is acknowledged 
by all. It tarnishes the life and throws its dim pall 
over the best efforts of mankind. The most distin¬ 
guished men have discussed the remedies for its pre¬ 
vention, and how to alleviate its results. There can be 
no doubt of human progress and well being ; but still 
misfortune is the common experience, and vice and 
degradation are so often witnessed that we feel neither 
remorse nor pain at their presence, and we see count¬ 
less thousands constantly falling victims to their allure¬ 
ments and retributions. . This is not, one would think, 
the proper nursery for the purification of the soul, for 
the redemption of its eternal welfare and for the uplift¬ 
ing of its aspirations to that heavenly home for which it 
can be fitted. If purification is the design of all this 
shuffling off of one mortal coil for another, this putting 
the old spirit into new garments, and dressing it up so 
that it does not know itself, nor is it known by any one 
else, living again under false colors, under the assumed 
identity of its new form alone, as if it had never had 
another, without even an alias to its name to indicate its 
true original one, and with appetites, passions, and 
mental and moral characteristics just as different from 
its former self as from those of the beings who surround 
him, and who can never tell whether he will remain in 
his condition as it is, or assume still another form in 
which to work out the problem of his life on earth 
before making his apotheosis in the mystic realms of the 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


145 


astral arcanum,—I say the excesses of such a theory 
destroy the foundation of its own faith. 

Eet us now turn to the method of working out this 
extraordinary doctrine. The first thing that strikes the 
mind is the very great consumption of time, labor and 
material necessary to its success. We know that a 
spirit is incarnated in every human being. The most 
skeptical must admit that there is a principle of some 
kind in every man that is beyond the quality of matter, 
and which acts upon the latter in a manner that does 
not correspond with the laws of physical substance. 
This principle is so apparent that every one has a con¬ 
sciousness of its existence. It is one of those funda¬ 
mental axioms that cannot be denied any more than 
that two and two make four. The difference of opinion 
arises only as to the character of this principle, its 
nature and destination. The materialist thinks it is 
dependent upon the body, and indeed is itself a part of 
the body, and consequently shares its doom and expires 
simultaneously with it. The spiritualist believes in its 
entity, and in its continued existence after the death of 
the body, and further that it is destined to a better and 
a higher life when it leaves the body in which it was 
incarnated. These two systems have divided the world 
and still divide it, though the convictions of another 
world are rapidly dispelling the views of the materialist 
and planting in their place a belief in the soul’s immor¬ 
tality. The man who believes that the spirit lives on 
and on upon the earth through generations of births, 
io 


146 RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 

deaths and reincarnations, must also believe that it is a 
self-existent reality, and derives its form and substance 
from the same source as the body itself. We have here 
three views that differ only as to the nature of the 
spirit and its action upon the body. There can be little 
doubt but that all will and do admit the principle of 
spirit life, but, while one denies its existence hereafter, 
the other two not only admit that existence, but claim it 
as a truth established by the most incontrovertible 
demonstration; but they differ in a matter of vital 
importance, one believing that death finishes its earthly 
career and experience, and the other that it passes 
through innumerable births and deaths before it quits 
the material existence. How is this accomplished ? 
How is the transmutation effected, for the question 
arises, how can a man be born again and again through 
indefinite generations in the material life ? The ques¬ 
tion here proposed cannot be answered satisfactorily by 
saying the principle is evident from the transmission of 
resemblances between parent and child, for as we have 
already seen these resemblances are only typical of the 
race. An animal of one race never produces an animal 
of another race, and a general resemblance is a matter 
that natural history teaches with regard to the brute 
creation, who are not supposed to have a spirit that sur¬ 
vives their death. We observe the same dispositions in 
all animals of the same kind. Quadrupeds produce 
quadrupeds, birds produce birds, and the same traits of 
conduct and character flow on from generation to gen- 


RE-INCARNATION ; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


147 


eration, and we do not, for that reason, suppose that the 
spirit of one animal is reincarnated in any of the others. 
So that a general resemblance of feature or mind cannot 
be relied upon as a basis for the doctrine of reincarna¬ 
tion in human beings. Then we have the further fact 
that no animal ever propagates a being of another 
species than that of its own. The wildest beast of the 
forest begets his own kind, and the most docile creature 
among those which are reared for the use of man never 
generates any form but his own, unless when crossed by 
the act of the breeder, and even then it is still of the 
same general description. Now, here is an argument 
in favor of the uniform law of succession in animated 
nature, which also proves that there, is nothing in the 
whole range of sentient being to sustain the theory of 
reincarnation. 

In regard to the existence of the spirit of man, we do 
not propose to argue that point further than to say that 
there can be no system of philosophy formed without 
its recognition. There can be neither science nor litera¬ 
ture, nor knowledge of any kind, without its agency. 
All the achievements of mankind come from its endow¬ 
ments. It is the spirit that enables a man to think, to 
know and to learn. Its cultivation refines human life. 
There is no situation in which a man can be placed 
where its intelligence will not aid him, and it is v the 
great source of his enjoyment and happiness. There is 
no human being without this magnificent possession, 
and to suppose that it passes from one body to another, 


148 RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 


is to suppose that no one is certain whether he has a 
soul of his own or not. What reason have I to imagine 
that I shall live personally hereafter, if my spirit is 
assigned to another body, and which of all the bodies is 
to be the fortunate one selected whose spirit shall enjoy 
the life to come? The same spirit evidently cannot 
exist in all these innumerable bodies at the same time 
hereafter, any more than any one of them can claim an 
exclusive possession of the vital spark, and the one of 
them all that shall obtain it robs all the others of the 
life immortal, robs the souls of innumerable beings who 
have lived and died of immortality and heaven. Can 
this be possible ? Can this be according to the law of 
divine love and justice ? 

There is no phase in which we can regard this doc¬ 
trine without having our common sense and our feelings 
shocked by its indecencies and its absurdities. But let 
us see if we can reconcile it with any principle of 
rational philosophy. The man who says that his soul 
is his own, is esteemed a man of sense and some firmness 
of character, if not a philosopher. It would be difficult, 
if not inconsistent, for a believer in Karma to utter such 
a sentiment, for he has no reason to believe that the 
soul that animates his body will remain its friend. It is 
only a tenant for life, and all he has acquired of knowl¬ 
edge, learning and experience, evaporates like the mist 
and vanishes like the smoke. His life has been a fail¬ 
ure so far as the hope of the future is concerned, and 
goes out with the breath of his nostrils. For him there 


RE-INCARNATION; ITS INCONSISTENCIES. 149 


is no resurrection, no heaven, no immortal life, no hope 
of existence beyond the gloomy portals of the grave. In 
vain for him have the angels sung the song of the 
redeemed, and the heavens been declared the final 
home of all those who wore the crown of virtue through 
the pilgrimage of earth. All ideas of spiritual philoso¬ 
phy are confounded by this relic from the Oriental 
museum of mystic curiosities. There is no principle of 
science, no theory of morals, no disclosures of spiritual 
life that sustain this India tradition ; nothing has ever 
been revealed beyond the shrouded and hazy retreats of 
Asiatic priesthood, or the dreamy temperaments of 
modern Octiltism, to support or preserve the infatuation. 
Let us, therefore, hope that it will pass away, that it will 
no longer borrow the truth from other forms of thought 
or philosophy to maintain its peculiar and distinctive 
principle of belief. 


THE NORMAN FRENCH ELEMENT 


IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 

AND CONTRIBUTIONS FROM OTHER TONGUES. 


In speaking of the Norman French element in the Eng¬ 
lish language, we necessarily refer to the Romance dia¬ 
lects of Western Europe. To do so effectively, we must 
go back to a period five centuries after the dismantle¬ 
ment of Rome and the spoliation of her provinces. From 
the fifth to the tenth century, if men were not without 
language in Europe, there must have been at least a 
strange confusion and promiscuous mingling of tongues. 
The Gothic swarms, under various chieftains, had vis¬ 
ited every country, town and city. The Visigoths, the 
Ostragoths, the Vandals, the Franks, the Huns, the 
Turks, and other barbarian hordes, extended their de¬ 
vastations from the shores of the Euxine to those of the 
Atlantic, destroying the religion and civilization of man¬ 
kind, and ultimately obliterating the language that had 
so long linked the Roman Empire together in one intelli¬ 
gence and form of speech, and in which were preserved 



NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 151 


so many treasures of literature and taste. The van¬ 
quished inhabitants, if unable to ransom their freedom, 
were reduced to bondage. The barbarians disdained 
the cultured speech of the prostrate Empire — the sub¬ 
jugated races despised the Runic phraseology of the 
invaders. But in spite of contempt on the one side and 
hatred on the other, some common mode of communica¬ 
tion was imperative, and this necessity resulted in vari¬ 
ous piebald neologisms of dialect, without grammar or 
precision. There was no secular literature to speak of, 
and the cursive hand or flowing Roman style of writing 
was used in diplomas, in deeds of land and marriage 
settlements, and also in wills and legal processes, for not¬ 
withstanding the disorder of the times, matters affedling 
the rights of property, and the litigation growing out of 
ordinary business, were transacted in the presence of 
magistrates. The writing or copying companies that 
employed large bodies of men in the cities were con¬ 
stantly engaged, and many curious documents of that 
era are described by paleographers as to the business 
and forms that were observed. Official documents were 
generally written in a hard jargon that aped Eatinity, 
and in the same manner were kept some of the rude 
chronicles that elicit in our time so much interest and 
gratification. Occasionally these were in two languages, 
and sometimes in three, circumstances that have enabled 
the historian, by comparing one with the other, to 
decipher many an eventful record of those convulsed 
and sombre periods. 


152 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 


We can scarcely trace this corruption of language, 
which ultimately ended in the beautiful Romance dia¬ 
lects, that combined so many forms of prose and verse. 

The subjugation instituted by the Romans over the 
vast regions between the Pyrenees, the Alps and the 
Rhine had, in the course of four centuries, effected 
a radical change in the manners, spirit and lan¬ 
guage of the native races. The predilection of all 
classes had become Roman. The Celtic denizens 
very generally amalgamated with the incursive Italian, 
and a taste for luxury, architecture, sanguinary spec¬ 
tacles, and theatrical magnificence, possessed in common 
the children of the soil as well as its usurpers. It is not 
known to what extent the Latin language, as spoken by 
the cultivated Roman in conversation and in the forum, 
had displaced the native dialects, or corrupted the Celtic 
vernaculars. A language so refined as the Latin could 
not, of course, be spoken with purity by the vulgar. It 
is fair to conclude that there always were impoverished 
dialects, in which the common people, the soldiers, the 
captives and the gladiators, kept up their intercourse. 
These homely provincialisms undoubtedly laid the foun¬ 
dation of the Lingua Rustica , or rustic speech, from 
which were evolved the Romance tongues, the Norman 
branch of which was destined to enter so largely into 
our own. 

In the early part of the fifth century, the Franks 
seized upon Gaul, and before its close Clovis succeeded 
in establishing their monarchy over the entire country. 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 153 


They descended from the shores of the North Sea and 
the banks of the Lower Rhine and Weser. It is the 
received opinion that they were originally of the same 
race as the other German tribes, who passed under the 
names of Goths, Saxons and Teutons. They had 
formed a league with other surrounding nations for 
mutual defence against the Romans, and therefore 
termed themselves Franks, or Freemen. In their new 
dominions they found Roman institutions, manners and 
language very generally prevailing. In founding the 
Empire of France, this northern race introduced their 
idiom, and its intermixture with what remained of the 
Celtic, and with the debased Latin, completed the gen¬ 
eral confusion of tongues. The Gothic of the invaders, 
the Celtic and the Frankish dialects, together with the 
Latin and the vulgar patois, were left to a free fight for 
preeminence. The inflexions and syntactical refine¬ 
ments of the Latin were unable to withstand the onset 
upon their existence, and the rolling swell of their 
involutions died away forever. The inflected syllables 
became separated from the substantial word, and be¬ 
came themselves distinct parts of speech. Hence arose 
auxiliaries and particles by which sentences were held 
together. The language of mighty Rome was dead as 
early as the 9 th or 10 th century. The Goth destroyed 
the Empire and extinguished its accent. There now 
sprung up all over France dialects which were subject 
to the caprice of everybody. The conquerors restricted 
themselves to Gothic in their palaces, and learned 


154 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 


writers adhered to Mediaeval Latin. Tongues were 
formed out of the Latin and Slavonic for the East, as 
in Wallaehia and Bulgaria, and out of the Gothic and 
Latin for the West, as in France and Spain. The Rus¬ 
tic was the speech of the common people, but it had, as 
yet, acquired no name, unless it was the Lingua Rus- 
tica. There was no standard and no prevailing form. 

„ Paris French had not been invented. Even as late as 
the reign of Charlemagne ( 768 - 814 ), the reciprocal 
ignorance of his subjects as to each other’s language 
was such that the church was compelled to preach in 
the German and Rustic speech of the people, and the 
bishops were directed to deliver their homilies in both 
the Rustic tongue and in the court German, which had 
been somewhat Latinized by the ecclesiastics. The 
Rustic dialect became more and more popular, display¬ 
ing in the southern departments greater affinity to its 
Latin element, whilst northward it absorbed a greater 
proportion of German and Gaulish terms. On the 
south of the Loire the Rustic dialect was designated 
the Provencal Romance, and on the north of this river 
it acquired the epithet of Wallon Romance, from the 
Celtic subjects, who were so named by the neighboring 
tribes. It was not until the 10 th century that the Wal¬ 
lon Romance was provided with rules of grammar and 
was fit for literary construction. The Provengal gram¬ 
mar was perhaps sooner. Its verbs, as it is said by 
Sismondi, had the inflexion of modern Italian. It was 
rendered fertile in figurative pictures by a license which 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 155 


invested inanimate beings with either sex at will, and 
portrayed the same object, though one of mere matter, 
stern and redoubtable if masculine, or tender and volup¬ 
tuous as the gender was reversed and the genius of the 
poet conferred upon it the attribute of sex. The moods 
of the verbs were so inflected as to dispense with the use 
of pronouns and particles, as in the learned languages. 
It had the advantage of oblique cases in nouns, and a 
terminal vowel that added a singular charm to the apos¬ 
trophes and invocations of its poetry. It was the lan¬ 
guage in which the troubadours sang their lays of love 
and tales of war. Their poetical compositions excited 
a literary taste throughout the south of Europe. They 
are said to have been the first European song writers 
who indulged in the use of rhyme. We know that 
Saxon metre, and indeed that the metres of all the poets 
of the North, depended upon alliteration to produce con¬ 
cord. We are now so accustomed to rhyme in English 
poetry that we never stop to inquire into its origin, or 
by whom its rules were first established. Here is what 
Sismondi says, Vol. i, page 56 : “Rhyme, then, which 
was essential to all the poetry of the Arabians, and was 
combined by them in various ways to please the ear, 
was introduced by the troubadours into the Provencal 
language, with all its variation of sound.” Indeed, it 
is not improbable that the troubadours borrowed it from 
the other side of the Pyrenees, where Arabian poetry 
and learning shed a brilliant lustre upon the courts of 
Arragon and Catalona. The Italian sonnets were imita- 


156 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

tions of the songs of the troubadours, who followed in 
the suites of kings and nobles, and satirized the follies 
of the great, and sang the glory of high chivalrous deeds. 
All questions of love and gallantry were treated in a 
highly poetical style. They acquired wonderful power 
in improvising whole poems. They had a court of love 
and public contests of skill, where high-born ladies 
awarded the prize of preeminence. “The Gay Society 
of the Seven Troubadours ’ ’ held their meetings in a 
garden, where they discoursed on questions of love and 
poetry, and read their performances. Here we find 
them discussing by what qualities a lover may render 
himself most worthy of his mistress ; how a knight may 
excel all his rivals; and whether it be a greater grief to 
lose a lover by death or infidelity. Such questions may 
seem frivolous to modern society. But everybody pro¬ 
fesses a faith in the passion of love; and surely we 
should care to know what it is. Perhaps there are none 
of us too old to learn. When the troubadour selected 
his mistress, he buckled himself to it as his life’s work. 
Indeed, one of them entered upon the job so seriously 
that he died of love for a mistress whom he had never 
seen. 

The Provengal was perhaps the first complete lan¬ 
guage growing out of the confused dialedts of Europe 
having its own literature, and a prescriptive strain or 
style for poetical subjects and classes of thought, and 
was called the Langue d'Oc , to distinguish it from 
its northern sister, which was styled the La?igue 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 1 57 


d'Oil. The nomenclature was derived from the affirm¬ 
ative word expressing yes in both idioms. It resem¬ 
bled the Eatin and modern Italian in having a large 
number of words which symbolize sense and sound. 
This beautiful and harmonious language, that com¬ 
bined so many varied forms of verse, that concentrated 
so much sensibility and fancy with an opulent imag¬ 
ery, and which, with its sister dialect, was a com¬ 
mon bond between the races who governed Europe 
from the extremity of Italy to the confines of Flanders, 
had a duration as ephemeral as its rise and expression 
W’ere unparalleled in the history of tongues. After 
dividing the lingual sovereignty of Europe with its 
twin idiom of the north ; after giving the whole south 
of France the aspect of a perpetual carnival, where 
peace, riches, courtly license and laxity of manners 
were its seductive chamberlains, it perished in the 13 th 
century, and, meteor-like in its extinction as in its rise, 
left memorials to build up the dialects of many people 
in the south of France, who do not suspect that they are 
speaking a language that once excelled the Italian 
in grace and harmony, and the Spanish in sonorous 
grandeur. 

The historical and didactic pieces in Provencal are 
far from being numerous ; some of these are serious, 
some satirical, some sportive, and still others incorporate 
reflections which show that amidst the prevailing laxity 
the maxims of morality were not entirely overlooked. 
These compositions do not pretend to philosophize upon 


158 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 


the nature of love or friendship, but they are terse and 
racy, with a piquant simplicity in the use of nouns and 
adjectives denoting sentiments of love, approbation, 
contempt, passion and ridicule. On the other hand, 
the Langne d’Oil, with more asperity in its idiom, took 
a wider range in its compositions, which were translated 
and recited in other languages, and furnished for several 
centuries a common groundwork for the literature of 
the west of Europe. Its compounds stood in very much 
the same relation that the French of Switzerland and 
Belgium do reciprocally to each other today. At one 
time it was uncertain which of the two would become 
the accepted language of France ; but that form of the 
Langue d'Oil which prevailed in Burgundy, Eorraine 
and the Isle of France, finally gained the ascendancy, 
and became the standard language of the entire country. 
The Langue d' Oil comprehended several dialects, and 
of these the Norman dialect, which extended over Nor¬ 
mandy, Brittany, Maine, Anjou and the Channel Islands, 
was the earliest formed, and the first of them all distin¬ 
guished for literature. 

Many of the English crusaders were troubadours, 
and excelled in that species of poetry. Among the 
Romance manuscripts that have been preserved, one 
exists which derives an extraordinary interest from the 
history of a celebrated English king. It is the actual 
composition of the Lion-Hearted Plantagenet, when 
incarcerated in a dark and loathsome keep of a Tyrolese 
castle, where he was secretly confined and permitted to 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 159 


communicate with no one. We are familiar with the 
story of the old chronicle, how his devoted minstrel 
Blondel, after having rambled over a great part of the 
continent in an unsuccessful attempt to discover the 
place of his imprisonment, came at last into the vicinity 
of this castle at Eiuzt, in Austria, and learning that it 
contained a prisoner of high rank, he approached its 
frowning walls in his privileged character of a minstrel 
and began singing a ballad that he and the king had 
composed together. When half through he suddenly 
stopped, and Richard, knowing it must be Blondel, 
began the other half and completed it. The English 
nobles, being informed of the discovery, procured the 
release of their monarch by the payment of an immense 
ransom. While in this prison he composed the piece 
referred to, being both in his mother tongue, the Wallon 
Romance or Norman French, and in the softer Proven¬ 
cal, in which he, as a royal troubadour, was deeply 
versed. 

The poesy of the Provencals, as we have seen, was 
sparkling and brilliant, with a great profusion of love 
songs and other .short pieces to celebrate acts of gal¬ 
lantry, or the tenderness and beauty of a mistress. It 
seemed to abandon a more elevated strain to its twin 
idiom of the North. The heroic poems and romances 
of chivalry appeared in the cultivated Wallon of Nor¬ 
mandy, and their authorship belongs to the Trouveurs, 
as the poets of the Langue d’ Oil were named. The 
laws which the Conqueror imposed upon England are 


160 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

the most ancient work in Wallon Romance or Norman 
French that has reached our day. Indeed, English 
prose and verse had their origin in the songs and 
romances of the Trouveurs. Poetry and victory seem to 
have enlisted under the banner of the Conqueror. One 
of William’s minstrels was permitted to commence the 
onset at the battle of Hastings, and he animated the 
soldiers with the song of Roland, then rushing upon 
the English ranks, he fell fighting, sword in hand. An 
incident like this is enough to stir poetry from her trance, 
to waken passion into words and untie the wings of 
thought to quit the dust and darkness of human life, 
and raise herself like lightning to the stars. The 
romances of the Norman poets became the text-books 
of the English writers in the 13 th and the first half of 
the 14 th centuries. The Brut of Layamon was founded 
on the French version by Wace. The exploits of 
Charlemagne and his twelve Pairs, and of Arthur and 
the Knights of the Round Table, and the poem of Alex¬ 
ander the Great, were only amplified from the fictitious 
histories that were current throughout Europe, and may 
nearly all be traced to their springs in the Norman 
French. Its continuous cultivation is traceable in many 
written memorials, such as the fabulous history of the 
Kings of England, the romance of the Holy Graal, Sir 
Tristan, Lancelot, the Life of Charlemagne, and the poem 
of Alexander the Great. It appeared to be one of those 
grand periods when genius bursts its fetters to astonish 
and delight mankind. The Norman French when intro- 




NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 161 


duced into England was the most distinguished literary 
language of the age, and its progressive development 
can be traced on the Island and upon the Continent for 
a hundred years afterwards, or about the time when it 
became an integral part of our own tongue, and consti¬ 
tutes the Romance element in our own English. 

The first official document expressed in English was a 
proclamation of Henry the III., dated October 18, 1258. 
Previous to this period, the laws and royal proclamations 
were in the Norman French. The folk-speech was prob¬ 
ably so unsettled that it could scarcely be used for the 
general diffusion of information, and neither the Nor¬ 
man Kings nor the Barons cared for the masses. A 
crisis now arose, when it was expedient to recognize and 
appeal to the people directly. The oppressive measures 
instituted by the King threatened the rights which had 
been wrested from John, his perfidious predecessor, at 
Runnymead. The Barons who opposed the King were 
about to give effect to their hostility by a resort to arms. 
To avert the danger, a parliament was convened at 
Oxford that promulgated certain ordinances, and this 
celebrated proclamation was issued to bind the com¬ 
monalty to obey them, as the King and his eldest son 
had sworn to obey them. There was a French ver¬ 
sion of the proclamation, but singularly enough, with 
the exception of the names of persons, places and titles, 
the English duplicate does not contain a single word 
of Norman French. This is very remarkable, in 
view of the facts that Henry was one of the Nor- 


162 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

man Kings; that the Wallon Romance was probably' 
his native tongue; that the laws were in that lan¬ 
guage, as were the formal proceedings of the courts. 
Besides, the nobles, who were of the Committee of Coun¬ 
cil, and who prepared the document, had been educated 
in French, and Simon de Montford, who led the popular 
movement, was a Frenchman by birth, but through mar¬ 
riage with the King’s sister he had acquired an English 
estate and title. As the most ancient official writing in 
English that has reached our day, this proclamation is 
invested with an extraordinary degree of interest, and 
has been transcribed over and over, so that there are not 
less than sixteen versions that have served as texts for 
as many different writers who have examined its gram¬ 
matical relations, the derivation of its words, their mean¬ 
ing, and even their ancient pronunciation. The incor¬ 
poration of the ancient Norman dialects of France into 
the English was singularly tardy. The transition period, 
as distinguished from that of complete change, continued 
for three hundred } r ears of contact before they ultimately 
combined, and even then their coalescence consisted in 
anglicizing isolated words, such as courtesy , honor , mcm- 
ory , victory , history , glory , and their verbal and adjectival 
forms, besides many other words ending in ous and ment . 
If, for instance, we consider the Brut of La3 T amon (1205) 
we shall find that the French element presents the most 
meagre proportions. This is a poem of 15,000 lines, 
originally in Norman French, and these were increased 
by Eajramon to the number of 32,250 lines in his ver- 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 163 


sion of it into English, which he completed in 1205 ; 
and yet we are informed by Professor Morley that 
the whole poem contains less than fifty words from 
the Norman ; and in a second MS. about twenty of 
these words do not occur, and about forty others are 
used, so that in the two MSS. out of 56,800 lines there 
are not over ninety words of Norman derivation. The 
Ancren Rievle (Ancient Rule) is another book which 
philologists receive as a specimen of early English. It 
is a score of years later than the Brut of Layamon, 
belonging to the date of 1220-30. Its grammatical 
forms have been particularly examined by Mr. Edmund 
Brock, (Trans. Phil. Society, 1865, Pt. 1, 150) who 
says that its language bears a close resemblance to 
Anglo-Saxon. He finds that the nouns have lost many 
of their endings, and that the declensions have become 
simpler and more varied, but that the genders of nouns 
and the inflexions of the verbs are the same as in the 
Anglo-Saxon. He does not mention a single word or 
form of syntax that has been supplied by the Norman. 
In the Ormulurn, a book belonging to the same period, 
out of 2300 words selected by Mr. Marsh there is not one 
from the Anglo-Norman. Even in the songs and ballads 
that have come down to us from that time there are 
scarcely any traces of the old French. In the well- 
known Cuckoo song, which it is reasonable to suppose 
was in the popular language, there is but one Norman 
word, and that is obsolete. In the earliest forms of 
English in the dialects of Scotland, words of Danish 


164 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

and Norwegian origin are far more abundant than those 
of Norman French, and doubtless they combined with 
the Saxon in forming the basis of Lowland Scotch. 
Wyntowne, Prior of St. Serf’s Monastery, who wrote his 
“ Orygynal Kronicle,” or History of Scotland, in the 
early part of the 15th century, speaks of the existence 
and works of several Scottish poets who belong to the 
same date, and he especially refers to “ Huchawn of the 
Awle Ryall,” or Hugh of the Royal Palace, who wrote 
the tale of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round 
Table, in an alliterative poem extending to 4347 lines. 
Other poems are ascribed to the same authorship, and 
the good old Chronicler eulogizes Hugh the poet as 
one who “was cunning in literature, curious in his 
style, eloquent and subtile, and who clothed his com¬ 
positions in appropriate metre, so as always to raise 
delyte and pleasure.’’ The Romances and Prophecies 
that have been upon doubtful authority attributed to 
Thomas of Erceldoune, including the beautiful story of 
Sir Trestem, belonging also to the same period, are all 
w r ritten in quaint Inglis , and are distinguished for the 
same absence of French words and forms of speech as 
the contemporaneous works further south. 

This very great disparity in the use of early English 
over its French constituents, would seem to indicate how 
little the latter had then moulded the genius of our lan¬ 
guage in its written structure. It is a natural inference, 
however, that the Romance admixture entered more 
fully into the colloquial dialect of ordinary speech, and 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 165 


that this was assured by the growing homogeneity of 
the two races, and the social tendencies of daily inter¬ 
course, from which it would be gradually transferred 
into written compositions, just as words are now trans¬ 
ferred from popular idioms by modern authors when 
they find them ready made for their use. We accord¬ 
ingly find that the assimilation of the French element 
advanced much more rapidly towards the end of the 
century than in the early forms of English of which we 
have been speaking. Indeed, from the middle of the 
13th century this change went on without ceasing. 
In his fabulous history of the Kings of England, pro¬ 
duced in 1272, Robert of Gloucester adopts at least six¬ 
teen words out of every hundred from a French or Latin 
source. In an English translation from the French, 
1340, entitled the “ Ayenbite of Inwit,” or again bite of 
conscience, that is, remorse, there is a still greater pro¬ 
portion of Romance words; and it is estimated that 
Chaucer, in his Canterbury Tales (1384), introduced 
not less than 2300 words of Norman origin that had not 
before appeared in English composition, so that during 
this transitional period our vocabulary was indebted to 
the local Norman dialect for an immense number of 
words as compared with those in the earlier writings. 
These terms have been added from time to time to our 
lexicons, and enter with familiar currency into the mass 
of written and verbal expression, till French words are 
so numerous as to pervade one half of all that compose 
our language. Not less than twenty-five or thirty thous- 


166 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

and of these verbal accretions swell the resources of our 
vocabulary. This change was undoubtedly the work of 
the people themselves. When the Norman and Saxon 
began to amalgamate, it is reasonable to suppose that 
their language would also commingle, and that they 
would gradually acquire the habit of using two distinct 
languages, indifferently and perhaps involuntarily, 
though they had nothing in common except the par¬ 
ticles used to unite their terms in the order of expres¬ 
sion. They would each use Saxon or Norman words 
as would respond to some idea or business necessity in 
their ordinary intercourse, and these words, insinuating 
themselves into the common speech, would take their 
place to remain permanently in general usage. In striv¬ 
ing to understand each other, the words of one language 
would be used with the words of the other, without regard 
to grammar, or anything else, except convenience, result¬ 
ing in a kind of lingual hodge-podge. This effort to 
bring the sense to the surface would occasion many 
rough travesties of both dialects; and it was perhaps in 
such primitive phraseology that “ Chateau Vert,” Green 
Castle, an ivy-clad tower that stood on the roadside, 
when French was spoken, was emended into shot-over¬ 
hill. Many singular anomalies originated in the same 
manner, having the semblance of sound with emptiness 
of all sense. 

Indeed, the despised Saxon, during the Semi-Saxon 
division of our language, had scanty need for its use. 
His sphere of ideas was limited to a very narrow circle, 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 16T 


and but few words would suffice to express his wants. 
His vocabulary would seldom be drained for more than 
a few hundred words at most, and he cared nothing for 
the form of those he employed, or for the preservation 
of the still greater number he rejected. It is not, there¬ 
fore, wonderful, though deeply to be regretted, that a 
multitude of good English words disappeared, and that 
French ones gradually took their place in the vernac¬ 
ular. The literature of the period was composed in 
French, and the common people alone kept alive the 
homely speech of their forefathers. The absence of 
any written standard for over one hundred and thirty 
years had completed the corruption of oral speech. But 
after the loss of her provinces in France, English inter¬ 
course ceased with the continent and the Anglo-Norman 
had to depend exclusively upon the people among 
whom he lived; and the half-and-half Frenchman grad¬ 
ually developed into a stalwart Englishman, and was 
proud of the name. The secret of language united the 
two races. It is in language that men think, and it is 
the exchange of words that brings them into association 
and sympathy, and they who speak and they who hear 
attain to a fuller consciousness of their mutual depend¬ 
ence and nationality. 

The instindts and interests of the poor and oppressed 
natives would induce them, even against their sympa¬ 
thies, to form some idea of the Norman dialed!. The 
merchant who sold, the artificer who manufactured, and 
the laborer seeking employment, would feel a natural 


168 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

and laudable desire to render their meaning transparent 
to their Norman customers, upon whom, perhaps, they 
chiefly depended for business, and we may be sure that 
when they found a French conjugate for a Saxon term 
they w T ould be incompetent to understand or observe the 
mysteries belonging to the French parts of speech; and 
we may be equally sure that the haughty Norman, who 
scorned the speech of his humble neighbor, would be 
indifferent to the niceties and verbal inflexions of the 
ancient tongue. But once they understood each other, 
their varieties of expression would be repeated again and 
again, and perfect currency would be insured for the 
new language. These circumstances show the tendency 
to modification, terminal retrenchment, and mixing up 
of dialects that were then slowly but constantly angliciz¬ 
ing our mother tongue. One word after another was 
chipped and moulded, and then cemented into the edifice 
of the English language; the extremities*of words were 
rejected, while the trunks alone remained to mark their 
ancient place. 

We should, however, bear in mind that behind these 
changes in grammatical forms were changes still more 
profound in the social relations, in codes of law, and in 
modes of thought. The two races were becoming one 
in feeling and sentiment. The French people had in a 
few centuries, perhaps unconsciously, abandoned the 
synthetic constructions inherited from their Eatin par¬ 
entage. We are not altogether ignorant of the causes 
which impelled this extraordinary change, and it is 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 169 


among the certainties of history that at an early day the 
quick and powerful minds of France required a clearer 
way of representing their habit of thinking and speak¬ 
ing than the system of Latin flexions. They accordingly 
arranged their words in logical order to express the 
practical ideas of life and business. The ample inflex¬ 
ions, the refined distinctions and the grammatical 
luxuriance of the Latin, have impressed scholars with a 
high opinion of the logical subtilty of those who insti¬ 
tuted them, and some think that current tongues seem 
shrunk into skeletons beside them. Of course it is right 
to speak well of the dead; but even if this were true, it 
would not detraCt from the power of modern intellect. 
Indeed it rather enhances the character of its capacity, 
if with less forcible, less vivid enginery of expression, 
we produce works that the masters of that superb idiom 
would not blush to acknowledge, and poems worthy the 
approval of poets who wrote when Hellas was young; 
and we doubt if the bards and orators of the dead 
tongues reached a nobler strain in their divine arts than 
we of the last two centuries have done, notwithstanding 
our alleged inflexible syntax and dessicated prosody. 
The advantage of flexible cases which can be applied in 
Latin and Greek, so as to multiply the same noun on an 
average into ten new forms, is undeniable, especially 
in metrical compositions, on account of the ending of 
the noun offering so many forms for sele< 5 tion, and the 
variations in the paradigm of a verb are as profuse as 
the myriad facets of a kaleidoscope. Nevertheless our 


1 TO NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 

auxiliaries and particles have enabled us to present 
many of the most beautiful and splendid examples in 
modern prose and poetry. 

We adopt the natural order of words as used in con¬ 
versation and ordinary speech, and we arrange them in 
a series that will call up the idea to be conveyed as we 
go along. The Greek, and afterwards the Latin, broke 
up this connected chain and scattered the words through 
the clause, so that the nominative and the verb, the 
adjective and the noun, were widely separated from each 
other, and the whole sentence was concatenated by 
terminations and inflexions into a puzzle, the key to 
which was the final word. Quite likely these artificial 
intricacies were adapted to the Greek mind and civiliza¬ 
tion, but I cannot but think that a merciful Providence 
induced the writers of early English to adopt the natural 
habit of speaking and writing, so that it may become the 
language of all nations. 

When at last the Saxon and Norman came together 
as one idiom, new and popular forms of expression were 
evolved, and the grammar, like all other agreements, 
was a matter of compromise, both races making conces¬ 
sions. The predominance of Norman influence led to 
the rejection not only of Saxon inflexions, but of many 
other features of its syntax, such as the cumbersome 
declension of articles, adjectives, and adverbs. The 
relation of words came to be expressed by particles. 
Pronouns came into general use; prepositions, instead 
of being tacked on as suffixes, became separate words, 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 171 


and. governed the object in its relation to the sentence. 
The auxiliary verbs were the means to express moods 
and tenses; and thus the language gradually assumed 
the analytic stamp it still bears. Many of our nouns 
and verbs have prima facie evidence on their face of 
their Romance origin, and not a few of these have such 
useful relationship to our language that they are exactly 
the same in their meaning and orthography as in the 
original French. Such, for instance, are the words 
ambition , declaration , decision , e 7 igagement , etc., which 
are still identical in both tongues. Great numbers have 
been reconstructed into English, and we observe that 
the sonorous vocables, fidelity , domestic , indelible , indig- 
nity , and hosts besides, are palpable transmutations of 
French words, or of Eatin ones derived through a French 
medium. And thus we have added twenty or thirty 
thousand words from that source; but the language 
remains English, notwithstanding this mighty influx. 
It is like the American race, which assimilates a vast 
immigration yearly, only to swell our marvelous growth 
in wealth and population. Such words as actuelle, 
afifirmer , adverter , embellir , developpment , esse?itial , pro- 
fessionel , rationale, Industrie , governement , programme , 
are slightly changed by our orthography, and recast by 
our declensions and conjugations, until they almost lose 
the resemblance to their original by the English garb in 
which they are naturalized among us. Such words as 
glory, courtesy, honor, are derived from the old Norman 
words, glorie , curtesie , honeur , and theirverbal and adject- 


172 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 


ival forms, and not from their equivalents in modern 
French, as is often supposed. 

In this absorption of so many words, we have some¬ 
times mutilated their forms by tinkering their termina¬ 
tions. This is visible in domestique , and many others of 
the same ending, where we substitute ic for the last 
syllable, and in a large number of adverbs, wdiere we 
supply the place of merit by ly. Sometimes the change 
is effected by inserting a letter in the word, as contract 
for contrat , but they are all made to agree in person, 
number, gender, case, mood, and tense, as directed by 
our rules of syntax. Indeed, the established rules of 
syntax constitute that part of a language upon w 7 hich it 
can alone rely for its perpetuity, so that however much 
we may appropriate from other tongues, if we invest 
them with our grammatical forms, the language through 
all time will bear an irradicable English type. Not¬ 
withstanding the extraordinary influx from the French, 
our grammar remains as English as ever. French 
nouns conform to our single declension, and French 
verbs take on our simple conjugations. In our finest 
prose and poetical compositions the eye and the ear will 
catch a French neologism and a stalwart Gothicism on 
the same page, and even in the same line, and one will 
not look any more like a foreign quotation than the 
other, and both will seem as English as if they had 
descended from the same ancient stem. 

We have probably naturalized most of the French 
terms of a serious or useful character, but there are 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 173 


hundreds knocking for admission in a manner seldom 
attempted by words from the same language that coa¬ 
lesced at an early date with the new tongue. Those of 
modern introduction are frequently without justification. 
For instance, what a series of posers we are offered in 
the use of the word coup ! Who would imagine that so 
fatal a circumstance lurked in coup de grace as a death 
blow, or that a surprise was a coup de 7 nain, or that a 
master-stroke could be emasculated into coup de maitre , 
or that a thunder-bolt was a mere coup de baton ! Could 
anything be more unreasonable to our English idea than 
to call the most terrific phenomenon of the clouds a blow 
of a stick! for this is its meaning when translated. It 
is difficult to understand how these fanciful phrases can 
acquire an intelligent merit when transferred into our 
language. They are sheer fatuities, besides involving 
a physical impossibility. They may be lighted up with 
a thought of some kind in the mind of a Frenchman, but 
it puts the common sense of the English language at 
naught to invest this gibberish with a coherent idea. 
When a French word can supply a want, or afford an 
interchangeable term, or even a euphemism, we may 
safely admit it to citizenship with those already in our 
lexicon. 

Here is a string of French and Latin words and 
phrases which illustrate their use in English. When 
presented in this form, their phraseology cannot be 
admired, even by those who are fondest of interlarding 
what they write or speak with foreign idioms. 


174 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 


Our reiicontre was at the rendezvous after the soiree. 
Quotha sub rosa this tableau is in statu quo. My sine qua 
non was the 7 ie plus ultra of bo 7 me hoTnmine. If I am in 
toto celo co 77 ipos 77 ie 7 itis and am in prop 7 'ia perso 7 ia , then I 
am a fac-simile of the argume 7 ite 7 n ad hominem. I am 
defended by my quid p 7 r o quo , and will revive my q 7 io 
warranto. My cice 7 r 07 ie is a co 7 moissc 7 cr of the chef 
d'ourete and I pay him in the debris of my porte 77 i 07 maie , 
which just now is 71071 est inventus. But my coup d'ceil 
sees in exte 7 iso the denouement. My naiveti is ipso 
fadlo imposed upon ad libitum by false bija 7 ix, which 
is not comme il pa 7 it. It is 7 iiliil ad rem unless it is 
mag 7 ius opus. Is this a 7 ighce? 

Now these sentences are not unlike what might be 
met with in a book or periodical, with some slight 
omissions. Every one of them is found constantly in 
our English, while every statement they contain can be 
rendered by aid of our correlatives quite as clearly in our 
own language. 

In its power of incorporating foreign terms into its 
structure, our tongue possesses a wonderful source of 
assimilation and improvement. These exotics are easily 
naturalized and become lingual necessities in the dif¬ 
ferent localities of our spoken language. Books, news¬ 
papers and correspondence furnish them with a passport 
wherever English is known, and ere long these pilgrims 
from abroad become inseparable from the intelligent 
intercourse of the age. There are numerous proofs of 
this in the translation of the Bible itself; for many of its 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 175 


terms are naturally adopted in full in order to avoid a 
painful circumlocution. Hence, we have Amen, Cherub, 
Ephod, Gehenna, Jubilee, Manna, Messiah, Sabbath, 
Seraph, &c. 

The names upon scientific topics follow the tongue 
of that nation from which we obtain such instruction. 
For instance, astronomical terms are Arabic: Algebra, 
Almanac, Zenith, Nadir, Talisman, Azimuth and 
Cypher. How little could we spare these words even 
as decorative phrases? Then we have from the same 
source, Alembic and Elixir; also the names of fruits, 
plants and instruments — all Arabic — such as Am¬ 
ber, Crimson, Gazelle, Jessamine, Take, Lime-tree, 
Lute, Arsenal, Assassin, Saffron, Barbican, Caliph, 
Divan, Emir-fakir, Harem, Houris, Mameluke, Min¬ 
aret, Mosque, Sahara, Vizier, Sultan, Sorocco, and 
many other beautiful terms. Mr. Murray, the pub¬ 
lisher, would never have paid Tom Moore $20,000 for 
Lalla Rookh if he had omitted all these euphonious 
orientalisms. From Persia we have Caravan, Dervish, 
Lilac, Orange and Tuberose. The following useful 
words are Plindostanee, put in circulation by the East 
India Company’s transactions: Calico, Chintz, Muslin, 
Punch and Jud}^. T3 T phoon is Chinese, and so is Tea, 
which was pronounced in the time of Pope, as if written 
Tay. He writes: 

Great Anne, whom these realms obey, 

Sometimes takes counsel, sometimes Tay. 

Tj^coon is Japanese. Mammoth is Siberian, and 


176 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 


Tattoo from the Polynesian Islands. Steppe, a wide 
elevated plain, is Tartar. Sago, Bamboo, Rattan, 
Orang-Outang, are believed to be Malay words. Zebra, 
Chimpanzee and Gorilla are from different African 
dialects. 

One might predict that the Italian words would be 
numerous; they are not, however, remarkably so, but 
are useful, and even indispensable—Balcony, Balustrade, 
Bravo, Canto, Caricature, Carnival, Charlatan, Cupola, 
Ditto, Fresco, Gazette, Gondola, Grotto, Harlequin, 
Influenza, Eava, Macaroni, Manifesto, Piano, Piazza, 
Portico, Regatta, Sequin, Vista, Virtuoso and Volcano. 
It is surprising that more Spanish words have not crept 
into the English language, considering the intimate 
intercourse both in peace and war that existed between 
the two nations in the 16th century. The literati of 
Elizabeth’s reign seemed to have been rapaciously lying 
in wait for foreign words, especially those of Spain. 
The royal intermarriages of Henry the Eighth to 
Catherine of Arragon, and of Mary Tudor to Philip 
Second, to say nothing of the protraCted and evasive 
manner in which Elizabeth deluded that sovereign with 
negotiations for her hand, gave rise to much political 
and social intercourse among the people speaking, 
respectively, those languages. A few of the words 
which have gained a permanent place in our vocabulary 
are Alligator, Alcove, Armada, Armadillo, Barricade, 
Bravado, Cargo, Cigar, Credo, Desperado, Don, 
Duenna, Embargo, Flotilla, Gala, Grandee, Granade, 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 177 

Punto, Mosquito, Mulatto, Negro, Palaver, Punctilio, 
Savannah, Sherry, Tornado, Verandah. These are cer¬ 
tainly important words in their proper places, and many 
of the same origin have disappeared, except in the old 
dramatists, where they are found with a show of affecta¬ 
tion. 

As might be presumed from their verbal physiog¬ 
nomy, the following terms in nautical affairs are Dutch: 
Sloop, Schooner, Yacht, Broom, Skipper, Taffrail, Smug¬ 
gle, Skates, To Wear a ship, and many others of the same 
sort. These being of comparatively modern introduc¬ 
tion, their parentage is easily ascertained; but a very 
large number of words from the same language coalesced 
at an early date with our tongue, and are not at this 
remote time easily dissected from it. 

*The contribution of the New World to the common 
English stock has been considerable in Indian and other 
words. Among them are Chocolate, Cocoa, Cazique, 
Maize, Pampas, Condor, Hammock, Potato, first intro¬ 
duced as Batato; Raccoon, Squaw, Tobacco, Tomato, 
Wigwam, and perhaps Hurricane. 

From examples such as those just mentioned it is 
difficult to foresee what changes may take place. One 
thing is clear, that this tendency of our language to 
accept an investiture of foreign terms should put us on 
our guard against any excess beyond what is required 
by colloquial intercourse, or the steady progress of our 

* The various writers on the study of words give quite extensive tables of 
those from abroad. In selecting such as are mentioned in the text, I have relied 
upon their correctness, but the incidental remarks are my own. 


12 



178 NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 


knowledge in any direction. Dryden defended his use 
of foreign words, remarking that “A poet must first be 
certain that the word he would introduce is beautiful in 
the Latin, and is to consider in the next place whether 
it will agree with the English idiom; after this he ought 
to take the opinion of judicious friends ; and since no man 
is infallible, let him use this license very sparingly, for 
if too many foreign words are poured in upon us it looks 
as if they were designed not to assist but to conquer us.” 

Like everything else in nature, a living tongue can 
only flourish so long as it continues to grow r . The pro¬ 
cess by which a tree continually sheds its leaves and puts 
forth new ones, has been regarded as in many respects a 
just image of the deposition and desuetude of words in a 
language, and of the new foliage with which its stem 
becomes invested. This comparison is as old as Horace, 
who sings: 

Ut silvae folies pronos mutantus in annos, 

Prima cadant, ita verburnm vetus interit aetas, 

Et juvenum ritu florent modo nata vigent que. 

And which in English may be translated thus: 

As from the trees old leaves drop off and die, 

While others sprout and a fresh shade supply, 

So fare our words — time withers them, but dead 
A fresher language rises in their stead. 

If the poet wrote thus of the speech of Rome, a lan¬ 
guage which was preserved uncorrupted by the great 
care of its scholars, and which all nations within the 
limits of the Empire studiously cultivated, we need not 


NORMAN FRENCH IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 179 


be surprised at the constant introduction of new words 
and the obsolescence of old ones. This probably will 
be the case in our own country as time rolls on, and the 
English of London and Washington may yield to the 
fortune of words beyond the control of those who use 
it. The historical changes of language may be more or 
less rapid, but they take place at all times and in all 
countries. They have reduced the rich and powerful 
idioms of the poets of the Vedas to the meagre and 
impure jargon of the modern Sepoy. These phonetic 
changes have transformed the language of Virgil into 
that of Dante; the dialect of Ulfilus into that of Charle¬ 
magne, that of Charlemagne into that of Goethe, and 
the native tongue of the historian Gildas into that of 
Lord Macaulay. The language of highly civilized 
nations does not seem to be much more stationary, even 
when a classical literature has spread its written forms. 
Let us, however, gratefully remember that whatever ele¬ 
ment of vigor or power our language derives from its 
Saxon heritage, its fertility in forms, its richness in 
synonyms, its lucidity and stately splendor, neither 
claimed nor possessed by other living tongues, are gains 
in great part from its original French constituents. It 
is in a composition where the Saxon and Norman ele¬ 
ments are combined with taste and elegance that our 
mother tongue appears to the most advantage. 


ONOMATOPOEIA; 


OR 

THE DERIVATION OF WORDS FROM SOUND. 


The meaning of Onomatopoeia is the formation of words 
from the imitation of sound.fr When a noise is conveyed 
to the mind through the sense of hearing, an impression 
is made more or less vivid. When it is heard with per¬ 
fect distinctness the meaning is clear, but if, on the other 
hand, the mind has not received a plain and definite 
impression, there is confusion and perhaps mistake in 
the conception. Sound cannot, therefore, be proposed 
as the basis of language, for it must always be loose and 
uncertain, and subject to incessant variation from the 
different manner in which the senses of different persons 
are likely to be affected by external objects. Besides, 
as the machinery of language becomes more complicated, 
its uses and rules become entirely arbitrary, and its 
abstractions infinitely multiplied. The new terms which 
are from time to time introduced will probably have 
more frequent reference to existing necessities and cir- 



ONOMATOPOEIA. 


181 


cumstances than to any supposed agreement between 
the sound and the sense. 

When a man utters a cry for assistance it is not 
necessary that he should explain all the danger to 
which he may be exposed, but it is indispensable that 
he should indicate in some way that he is in need 
of help. It would be difficult to imagine how he 
could do this unless he had the means of showing his 
condition, and thus bringing to the attention of those 
from whom he expected relief the danger that threatened 
him. There is in such case a compound action, or per¬ 
haps it would be better to say a sound supplemented by 
an explanation, and this combination constitutes the 
language he employs. The sound is not the primary 
ingredient in this articulation, for sensation has awakened 
in the mind the feeling we call fear, and that in its turn 
has suggested the proper articulation to express itself. 
It is seen by this example that the mind first receives 
the impression, the exclamation follows for assistance, 
and is therefore the second step in the action, while the 
explanation brings up the rear, and makes the whole 
occurrence intelligible to some other mind. If there 
had been no danger there would have been no cry, and 

if there had been no explanation there would have been 

: 

no intelligent communication. It is natural that some 
part of every language, especially in its infancy, should 
be formed by the process called Onomatopoeia, but when 
it is asserted that it is the foundation of language itself, 
the idea is intended to be conveyed that our thoughts 


1S2 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


are spoken only in imitation of some noise in nature 
which they resemble. This theory would account only 
for a small part of our vocabulary, and were we confined 
to it we would be restricted to a very limited number of 
vocables. How could we express metaphysical abstrac¬ 
tions in elementary sounds, or endow the unconscious 
vowels and consonants with moral qualities by imitation 
existing between them and our sensations ? Sounds can¬ 
not, of themselves, express the sensations of sight, of 
taste, of the touch, or of smell, much less the silent 
thoughts that rise in the mind, or the noiseless feelings 
that agitate the soul, or swell the heart with emotion, 
nor is there any means of imitative expression for the 
teeming fancies of the imagination, or in the grand con¬ 
ceptions of philosophy, in all the noises of the universe. 
When we wish to express a thought, or when we con¬ 
template a mere subjective image that rises spontaneously 
in the mind, we select words to express it to others, for 
words become the only symbols to represent all that 
originates in the depths and solitude of our mental cogi¬ 
tations. These words, whence come they? What is 
their origin ? The etj^mologist can trace them back to 
the stock from whence they descended, while the origin 
of others lost in remote antiquity baffles his pursuit. 
And perhaps it is still more difficult to tell us how they 
acquired their meaning, and the learned philologist con¬ 
jures up a thousand fanciful conjectures that show his 
ingenuity without solving the difficulty. Now, if it be 
true that they were mere imitations of sound, it would 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


183 


be easy to trace them back, not only to their primitive 
form, but to their original signification. The sounds 
are the same that they have ever been from the begin¬ 
ning of time. The thunder speaks as it did at creation’s 
dawn. The wind blows, the waves roar, the tempest 
howls, the birds sing, the leaves rustle, the stream mur¬ 
murs, the pig grunts, the horse neighs, the sheep bleat, 
and the cow bellows, as did their predecessors thousands 
and thousands of years before, and if it be true that they 
were the basis of spoken words we would have the means 
at hand to refer them all to the primordial sources. This 
no one attempts, not even the believer that language is 
but a collection of onomatops, and since as they believe 
that human cries and interjectional exclamations are 
unchanged from the first scream that was uttered by 
human lips, there would be no need of going back to 
ancient Sanskrit or primeval Aryan roots to discover the 
derivation of our forms, since they are here in our midst, 
and sound in our ears every day, and almost every hour 
we live. Words may change their nature and meaning, 
and they may belong sometimes to one part of speech 
and sometimes to another, and there may be different 
senses in using them, but elementary sounds never fluct¬ 
uate; they are universal, and remain steady and faith¬ 
ful to the standard under which they originally enlisted, 
and retain forever the same effect. 

The great objection to the theory that sound is the 
basis of language, is the apparent dissimilarity between 
the sound of the word and the form it assumes in use. 


184 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


There is scarcely a word that reminds us of any noise 
we have ever heard. The best way to test this is take 
a word at random, and compare it with any sound which 
may be supposed to mean the same thing. The word 
groan , for instance, has a clear and distindt meaning. 
It is a verb or a noun according to the purpose for 
which it is used. In its verbal form it signifies a mur¬ 
mur of distress, as of one in pain. It never indicates the 
particular kind of pain, and even by a natural and easy 
metaphor it may be used concerning inanimate objedts, 
as, the “ groaning oak.” It may be that it comes from 
some one w T ho has fallen down and suffered a bruise, or 
an acute disease, or a wound, or a blow. People groan 
when undergoing a surgical operation, or having a tooth 
extracted, or when suffering from headache or stomach 
trouble, the kick of a horse, the bite of a dog, the 
sting of a serpent, a live coal upon an exposed part of 
the body, the sudden announcement of a great calamity, 
mental agony, an overcharged condition of the heart 
or the lungs, a failure in business or the destruction of 
property by fire or flood. These are but a few of the 
occasions that would justify a groan, and it would be 
quite impossible to determine by the sound to which of 
them it was referable. This could be learned only by 
inquiry, in which many other vocables would be neces¬ 
sarily brought into use. 

Or let us take another example. We often hear a 
child cry for some cause, and in nine cases out of ten 
we cannot tell what. The gentlest nurse, the most 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


185 


attentive mother, cannot divine the cause for which the 
little sufferer screams and weeps. It may be hunger, or 
thirst, or the jagging of a pin, a pain in the stomach or 
the bowels, or from other ills peculiar to infancy, and 
although pretty much everybody who has ever been 
brought into the world, white, black or brown, has been 
making use of these sounds to make known their distress, 
yet the meaning is as deep a mystery as the birth of the 
child itself. Would it not be inconsistent to suppose 
that a structure of language with words whose meaning 
is perfectly defined and universally understood, could 
possibly arise from such discordant and perfectly mean¬ 
ingless plaints, yells and bawling as these? If there is 
truth in this supposition, we should study the groaning 
of a person in distress, or the clamor of a child, rather 
than the stores of ancient languages, or the lexicons of 
our vocabularies. 

There is a view of this subjedt that deserves some 
notice. It is the undoubted existence of a class of 
words that apparently derive their origin from sound. 
These, however, are limited in number, and are not 
ranked among the useful and noble hosts of words that 
give character and grandeur to our language. Nor do 
they add much to the number of the lexicon even of 
inferior words in the higher use of English. When we 
would express a sentiment of surprise it is quite natural 
to use an involuntary exclamation that conveys no 
meaning beyond a shock to the attention. The mind 
instinctively withdraws itself from the rude blast of a 


186 


ONOMATOPCEIA. 


storm with an ejaculation expressive of horror, and 
■when intelligence comes that failure or death has 
occurred to those whom we love, a cry escapes the lips 
to testify our grief. There are many instances where 
names echo the outcries of animals, as the cock from his 
crowing and the cuckoo from its peculiar chuckle. 

So the resemblance between the sound of certain 
words and their signification presents some singular 
examples of imitative perfection in modern English. 
In such words as crash , plash , thump , bang , and many 
others, we seem to hear distinctly the thing spoken of, 
and whole phrases are said to exhibit the same feature, 
as in the line, “ Of a knocking at the door, rat-a-tat.” 
The following anecdote illustrates how this resemblance 
may be the means of communication between those w T ho 
are ignorant of each other’s language: Some officers of 
a British ship were dining with a Mandarin at Canton, 
China. One of the guests wished for a second helping 
of a savory stew, which he thought was some kind of 
duck, and, not knowing the word in Chinese, held his 
plate to the host, saying with a smiling approval, 
‘‘Quack, quack, quack.” His countenance fell when 
his host, pointing to the dish, responded, ‘‘Bow, wow, 
wow,” and he quacked no more. 

But it is in versification that the sound is best and 
oftenest adapted to sense, and it is the poets who claim 
that it should indicate the meaning of words. And here 
it must be confessed that many examples can be referred 
to confirming the pretension. In the first place, the poet 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


1ST 


must please the ear as well as excite the passions. He 
represents Nature in her ideal forms, and brings light and 
sunshine into his lines. The measure of his verse must 
be accurate. He must comprehend the power of words 
and the effect of many, while the accent and cadence ought 
to correspond with the images he presents, in order to 
produce pleasing and harmonious sounds. Perhaps of 
all the modern languages the English possesses this 
peculiar excellence for every species of imitation. Dry- 
den, Pope, Scott, Eongfellow and Tennyson, imitate 
everything in their matchless verses; all the living noises 
of nature, the neighing and tramp of the horse, the sound 
of music, the joy or sorrow of cathedral bells, the rever¬ 
berations that die away in the distance, the rumbling of 
thunder, the song of birds, the clash of swords, the cry 
of despair, or the note of joy, are imitated in their verses 
in a harmony adapted to the sense. They seek beauti¬ 
ful words when they describe what is beautiful, and 
arrange them so as to form the cadence of the verse; 
and when they introduce an image of horror or dismay, 
they select the harshest sounding vocables to express it. 
They speak of love in the soft vowels and terms of Saxon 
origin; they represent wrath in the rough consonants of 
the Teutonic element, and inspire awe, respect and dig¬ 
nity in the flowing swell of majestic Rome. The rush¬ 
ing of waters, the crushing of falling trees, the roar of an 
ocean steamer, can be imitated by the clashing of mono¬ 
syllables and dissyllables, and these can be selected from 
a supply that is practically inexhaustible. On the other 


188 


ONOMATOPCEIA. 


hand, bulk, stillness of position, color, silence, and men¬ 
tal emotions, cannot well be represented by oral sounds. 
These require intellectual signs, which must necessarily 
be addressed to the eye and the intelligence. Classical 
scholars point out many well-known passages in Homer 
and Virgil that show off this beauty to great advantage. 
The heave and lash of a billow upon the shore, the beat 
of a horse-tramp rattling at full speed over the reverber¬ 
ating camp, and the sobs of giants, as they inhale deep 
breaths for their mighty labors, are rendered with such 
rhythmical cadence as to reveal the spirit even to one 
who has never studied the language. 

I venture to suggest, and I do so with diffidence, that 
these classical conceptions have been reproduced in Eng¬ 
lish with almost, if not with equal effect. The alleged 
want of flexibility in our tongue has not prevented an 
interpretation which the poets who wrote them would not 
blush to acknowledge. After so many ages devoted to 
the study of the humanities, I take it for granted that 
living scholars understand the superb idioms of Greece 
and Rome, and can indite iambics worthy of their poets. 
Perhaps the lines of Pope deserve the first place in these 
poetical translations. Here, for instance, is the sound 
of falling trees in the forest: 

“ Loud sounds the axe, redoubling strokes on strokes, 

On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks 
Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown, 

Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down.” 


ONOMATOPCEIA. 


189 


The next is an example which gives us a feeling of 
laborious exercise: 

“ When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw, 

The line to*labors and the word moves slow.” UO 

Here we almost hear the Colossus, as he sighs and 
knots his thews to hurl like Scott’s exiled Bari: 

“ The Douglass tore one earth-bound stone.” 

One of the most successful of these attempts has been 
made in describing the endless toil of Sisyphus: 

“ With many a weary step, and many a groan, 

Up a high hill he heaves a huge, round stone. 

The huge, round stone resulting with a bound 
Thunders impetuous down and smokes along the ground.” 

Who does not perceive the stone to move slowly 
upward and roll violently back? Bet us again quote 
Pope, to mark the distinction between the rugged and 
the smooth in imitative harmony. The first two lines 
have been cited above, but I repeat them in connection 
with two other lines to contrast slow and prolonged 
motion with that which is rapid and graceful: 

‘‘When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw, 

The line te-labors and the word moves slow.” 

‘‘Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, 

Flies o’er th’ unbending corn and skims along the main.” 

The difference between the struggling toil of Ajax 
and the flat earth spurning thef footstep of Camilla, cer¬ 
tainly ow r es its vividness as much to the measure and 



190 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


sound of the words as to the justness with which the 
thought is expressed. In the copy we can perceive 
the solemn labor of the Grecian hero, and mark the 
speed with which the swift-fuoted servant of Diana out¬ 
strips the wind in her flight over land and sea. 

Another example, also from Pope, in which the con¬ 
cordance between sound and sense is so obvious that no 
one can be blind to it: 

“Jove’s thunder roars, heaven trembles all around, 

Blue Neptune storms, the billowing deep resounds, 

Earth shakes her nodding towers, the ground gives way 
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day.” 

We ask is this mere imagination or are we listening 
to realities ? The imagery of expression could scarcely 
convey a sound of grandeur more exadtly like the war 
of the natural elements. 

Some of our translations from the German show the 
same facility of expression in a surprising manner. 
The Lenore of Burger could be almost understood by a 
person ignorant of the language, for it moves with a 
rythmical chime that reveals its story. Nor is this wild 
ode much shorn of these features in its English form. 
The translation of this favorite poem by Dr. Rankin, 
of Washington, exhibits, perhaps more fully than in 
any other adaptation, the peculiarities which distinguish 
the original. It has a glow, a fiery animation and a 
swell in its double rhymes which give it the magical 
effedt of the German. Take, for example, the stanza 
describing the arrival of the Knight: 


ONOMATOPCEIA. 


191 


“ But hark without! ’Tis clack, clack, clack ! 

As though horse hoofs were sounding, 

And then a clatter up the track 
Against the walls resounding, 

And then, a pause, and hark, a ring ! 

So soft and slow, a ding, ling, ling, 

And through the latticed shutter 
These words a voice did utter. 

* ■3£ -7T * -X- 

She girds her loins, and nimbly springs 
Upon the steed behind him, 

Her lily arms around him flings 
Close to her heart to bind him. 

And whirring, skirring, hop, hop, hop, 

They into furious gallop drop ; 

The horse and rider sticking, 

And sparks and pebbles starting.” 

The description is so vivid and wild that we seem to 
hear the timid question of the maiden, and the abrupt, 
impetuous reply of the specftre. We fly with the magic 
steed which bears the lovers over hill, and dale, and 
stream, and lofty mountain, until the rider begins to 
slacken the rein upon his courser’s neck, as they reach 
the end of the journey before the morning beam slanting 
earthward shall dissolve the charm. They stand before 
the iron gate which encloses the sepulchres of the dead, 
when 

“ He cracked his whip, the locks, the bolts 
Cling, clang, asunder flew.” 

They enter the gloomy precinbts, the tombstones 
stand thickly around, and the dead arise with a shrill 


192 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


chorus to witness the ghastly nuptials. A chasm opens 
at their feet and horse and riders sink 

“Through the wide yawning ground.” 

It is maintained that this splendid translation is not 
inferior to Burger’s very best lines in the original. 

Many examples are given in our own language to 
show how well our poets succeed in 

“The varying verse, the full resounding line, 

The long, majestic march, the energy divine,” 

A couplet which, it is said, has never been excelled. In 
the wild ode, 

“ Tramp, tramp along the land, 

Plash, plash across the sea,” 

The answer both of land and water to the invading foot 
could hardly be more distinctly uttered by those elements 
themselves. But the finest effect is produced in Tenny¬ 
son’s Bugle Song, which represents the dying cadence 
of the clarion call: 

“ O, hark ! O, hear ! how thin and clear 
And thinner, clearer, further going, 

O, sweet and far, from cliff and scar 
The horns of Elfland gently blowing. 

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, 

Blow, bugle, answer echos, dying, dying, dying.” 

A quatrain of an unknown author has been quoted 
and admired as producing the charms of repose and 


ONOMATOPCEIA. 


193 


mellowed tranquility of night by the artistic adoption of 
lenitive and neutral-tinted words: 

“ Yon ring-disked moon with voiceless ray, 

Silvering the night to pearly day, 

Bmbathes me, like thy tones serene, 

Pure, placid Angeline.” 

But it is said that in the whole range of imitative 
verse no line eclipses, and some good judges maintain 
no line approaches, the one I now quote: 

“ On that lone shore loud moans the sea.” 

I shall give an instance from a poem supposed to have 
been written by Edgar A. Poe. The Wandering Jew, 
as the legend tells us, was incapacitated by the curse 
his inhumanity drew down upon his head, from pausing 
an instant in his wanderings until the second Advent or 
the Day of Judgment. As he passes on, ever hoping 
for death and rest, and borne onward by a whirlwind 
that always pursues him from behind, he enters a 
plague-stricken city, where thousands of the people are 
being buried, and he exclaims : 

‘ ‘ Shall I fall dead—when dead arise ? 

Shall I stand still—w T hen they do walk ? 

Adieu, my pauseless footstep flies, 

I hear the ghastly whirlwind stalk.” 

It must be considered an instance of successful Onomat¬ 
opoeia when the few simple words, fall, arise , dead , walk 
and stalk construct a picture at once so intense and so 
appalling. 

I shall conclude these examples by giving some of 


13 


194 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


the most striking portions of Milton’s sublime ode on 

the Nativhy of our Saviour: 

“ No war, or battle’s sound 
Was heard the world around, 

The idle spear aud shield were high up hung; 

The hooked chariot stood 
Unstained with hostile blood 

The trumpet spoke not to the armed throng, 

And kings sat still with awful eye, 

As if they knew their sovereign Lord was by. 

‘ * The oracles are dumb ; 

No voice or hideous hum 

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. 
Apollo from his shrine 
Can no more divine 

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving, 
No nightly trance, or breathing spell, 

Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. 

“ The lonely mountain o'er, 

And the resounding shore, 

A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament, 

From haunted spring and dale 
Edged with poplar pale, 

The parting genius is with sighing sent; 

With flowers in woven tresses torn, 

The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thicket mourn. 

“ And sullen Moloch fled, 

Hath left in shadows dread 

His burning idol all of blackest hue ; 

In vain with cymbal’s ring 
They call the grizzly king, 

In dismal dance about the furnace blue ; 

The brutish gods of Nile as fast, 

Iris and Orus, and the dog Anabis, haste.” 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


195 


Says one of the Milton commentators (Dr. Joseph 
Warton), ‘ ‘ Attention is irresistibly awakened and 

engaged by the air of solemnity and enthusiasm that 
reigns in this stanza (verse 180) and some that follow. 
Such is the power of poetry, that one is almost inclined 
to believe the superstition real.” And Mr. Bridges, in 
his life of Milton, remarks that the climax of his rhymes 
in this hymn is perfect and that there is no other lyrical 
stanza in our language so varied, so musical and so 
grand. The Alexandrian close is like the swelling of 
the wind when the blast rises to its height. 

This remarkable poem seems to contain many of the 
embryo excellencies which have been warmed into life 
and beauty by Sir Walter Scott, by Elizabeth Barrett 
Browning and by Alfred Tennyson. Indeed, it is so 
typical of their several powers and style, that if it had 
appeared during this century as an anonymous produc¬ 
tion, the world would have been at a loss in declaring 
to whom its authorship should be awarded. Some of its 
features bear such a close reflex of natural appearances 
in both breadth and minuteness that they might be 
justifiably attributed to the Northern Wizard. It 
would not be an improbable supposition either, that the 
formation of the stanzas, that the appeals to rites, 
superstitions and crimes, might have issued from the 
fervid authoress of “Pan is Dead.” Some of the lines 
.singularly resemble Scott’s in phraseology, as well as 
fancy; yet there is that subtile difference in the cast of 
thought, and, so to speak, the natural mannerism of 


196 


ONOMATOPCEIA. 


Scott, that precludes suspicion that even his greatest 
resemblances to this ode are deliberate or even con¬ 
scious ones. Perhaps a citation of a single passage 
will explain my meaning: 

“ Harp of the North, farewell, the hills grow dark, 

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending, 

In twilight caps, the glow-worm lights his spark, 

The deer half seen are to the covert wending.” 

Compare the lines with Tennyson’s : 

“ Sometimes on lone mountain mere 
I find a magic bark, 

I leap on board, no helmsman steers, 

I float till all is dark. 

There angels bear the holy grail, 

In soles of white, with folded feet, 

On sleeping wing they sail.” 

The above abstracts are remarkable examples of skill in 
the use of mere sound as an accompaniment and intens¬ 
ive of sense; although to some extent it may be sus¬ 
pected that the mind often governs the ear, and the 
sounds are estimated as to their meaning as much by 
the one as the other. All sorts of motion or adtion may 
in some sort be exemplified by their relation to sounds. 
The poets lay down the rule that the sound should 
seem an echo to the sense. It is thought by many that 
the inflexibility of our language places many obstacles 
in the way of a cadence that conjures up realities as if 
seen in a picture. The advantage of inversion, of 
flexible cases and vowel endings, is undeniable, and we 
know they can be applied in Tatin and Greek so as to 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


197 


multiply the same noun on an average into ten new 
forms, and not less positive is the metrical gain in the 
paradigm of a verb with its different forms of inflexion. 
If we have few inflexions in English, we have a bound¬ 
less variety of vocables with long and short syllables, 
and vowel constituents such as were used in Rome. 
Our particles swarm upon every page, clearly indicating 
the relation of every word in the line or sentence, and 
our verb is capable of expressing every sort of action. 
I think it may be doubted whether the foregoing 
examples in English show a resemblance between sound 
and sense that is at all inferior to that in any other 
language, ancient or modern. 

It is the theory of some philosophers, as we have 
already observed, that the origin of language is purely 
phonetic, and consequently that the formation of words 
is only a resemblance to the special sounds that accom¬ 
pany adtion or motion. The sheep bleats, the dog 
barks, the lion roars, and the noise made by each became 
the name of the animal, and these names have become 
corrupted in their present form. Max Midler calls this 
theory the bow-wow theory of language, and he declares 
that the theory of deriving language from imitative roots 
is a complete failure. I think it must be admitted that 
there are a number of names and perhaps other words, 
in addition to those already mentioned, that are formed 
from mere imitation of sound; for instance, ding-dong, 
a word intended to represent the ringing of bells, as in 
the Merchant of Venice : 


198 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


“ Let us all ring fane's knell, 

I’ll begin it, ding-dong bell.” 

Or take tippe-tappe, an imitative word expressive of 
noise, or hurly-burly, a bustling noise : 

“ When the battle ’s lost and won, 

When the hurly-burly 's done.” 

The word humpty-dumpty conjures up the form of a 
short, clumsy person, as in the nursery rhyme: 

“ Humpty-dumpty sat on a wall, 

Humpty-dumpty had a great fall, 

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men 
Cannot put Humpty-dumpty together again.” 

Often also, a very curious term is given to the sound 
of a word by repeating it, as takes place in most artful 
conundrums. A young lady once married a man by the 
name of Dust, against the wish of her parents. After a 
short time they lived unhappily together and she 
returned to her father’s house, but he refused to receive 
her saying: “Dust thou art, and to Dust thou shalt 
return,” and she got up and dusted. 

This device is sometimes used for the purpose of 
impregnating poetry with that air of burlesque which 
designedly enters into the closing hexameters of Byron’s 
stanzas, in Don Juan and the Vision of Judgment. 
Here is an instance from the first: 

“ Christians have burned each other, quite persuaded 
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.” 

And in the last, when Satan and Michael meet at the 
celestial gate: 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


199 


“ Yet still between his Darkness and his Brightness, 

There passed a mutual glance of great politeness.” 

The dodlrine of sound can go but a short way in 
accounting for our vocabularies, and at most must be 
confined to those cases in which noise and motion are 
combined. All sound is addressed to the ear, but 
mental perceptions arise from the other senses, and 
probabl} T most of our knowledge is acquired independ¬ 
ently of the sense of hearing. The mind alone has 
power of converting thought into expression, and its 
ideas, emotions and reveries are produced by the indus¬ 
try of the reason, imagination and judgment. Nature 
has many ways of expressing herself. Sound is said to 
pervade all things and space. It is about us, even when 
we do not recognize it. Our ear is a whispering gallery, 
but we fail to hear, and often fail to distinguish what 
we do hear. I understand a person who addresses me, 
I know the sound of the storm and the hurricane, of the 
gentle breeze and the running stream, the fall of a peb¬ 
ble on the ground below, and the rustling foliage of the 
trees; and yet I doubt if any of us can recall a single 
word, the import of which we have picked up by its 
resemblance to sound. The mind is capable of compre¬ 
hending principles and the invisible elements of thought 
that address the reason and the imagination, and it can, 

with the aid of the physical organs, combine its discov- 

/ 

eries into the various forms which are essential to a 
useful order of things. The great bulk of our language 
is employed to express those relations which have no 


200 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


corresponding sound in all the noises of the world. The 
braying of a jackass or the grunting of a pig are scarcely 
the germ roots from which to trace the divine faculty of 
human speech. 

Besides, words of the same sound differ in their im¬ 
port. Take, for instance, the words hear and here. 
They are not only different parts of speech but express 
a different signification. On the other hand many 
words express the same signification—like profitable , 
remunerative and lucrative , but convey each a special 
sound to the ear. 

We know the pronunciation of words has very little 
to do with the symbols that express their ideas in print; 
and an acute author asks, quaintly enough, “ What man 
of what nation, ancient or modern, could imagine the 
existence of a people on the same globe with himself 
who employ the letters e, a, u, x, to express the sound 
of water?” This is true enough the French word for 
waters, and is pronounced precisely like our open vowel 
O. It is spelt, however, eaux ; and generally the ety¬ 
mology of a large proportion of the French vocabulary 
is traceable only in its written forms, for as articulated 
the words lose all resemblance to any natural sound on 
earth, and some centuries since the discrepancy was 
even greater than now. 

But look at our own “ ough,” which is found in so 
many English w r ords. In though it has the cooing 
sound of a dove. In thorough it dwindles to an open O y 
as in 7 io. In cough it has the stifled sound of O in off. 


ONOMATOPCEIA. 


201 


In tough the vowels abandon all resemblance to the O 
sound and we pronounce it like u in cuff. In hiccough , 
the ough undergoes a stranger metamorphosis and has 
the sound of cup ; which is quite consistent, for when a 
man hiccoughs we say he is in his cups. 

When we observe the introduction of a new word 
into our idiom and its efforts to obtain a fixed place in 
its vocabulary, it is quite possible to determine its origin, 
for language, like society, is somewhat jealous of intrud¬ 
ers, and scans every applicant for admission. The 
word telegraph, or telegram, will probably retain its 
acceptation, being distinct, convenient, and derived from 
the Greek, and has no relation to any sound whatever, 
and is one of an immense number of words that we can 
trace historically to a totally different source. 

And so a word that comes to express an especial 
idea may soon be found acting as the exponent of an 
extremely different signification. The word exo?'bi- 
ta?it, which once meant exorbitual , or astronomically 
out of orbit, or erratic, has no longer any technical place 
in science, and is now exclusively used as a term of 
profit and loss. 

These aberrations of our language are far more 
numerous than we suspect, and it demands unusual 
research with much patience to collect and discuss a 
fair proportion of those in common use. I only refer to 
the subject here to show how strong the internal evidence 
of the language itself, that mere sound has little influence 
in its origin, and that such a bewildering theory would 


202 


ONOMATOPCEIA. 


only bring unending confusion into a science already 
sufficiently obscure. 

It has, however, been a question whether sound can 
be adapted to sense by means of any uniform rule in 
prosody, or by any ascertained arrangements of syllables 
or words. Dionysius of Halicarnassus was the first 
among the ancients who wrote upon this kind of har¬ 
mony, and he found these beauties so numerous in 
Homer, that he felt himself justified in believing they 
were the work of design and art. Other authors have 
extolled Virgil for exhibiting this excellence in a very 
superior degree. Take, for instance, the celebrated line : 

“ Quadrupendante putrem sonita quatit ungula campum,” 

and shakes with horny hoof the solid ground. 

An attempt has been made to deduce some general 
rules by which these beauties were composed. We are 
told by one author that this line is an example of the 
imitative use of dactyles, and that the concurrence of 
five dactyles (one long and two short syllables each) 
in a line are employed to denote swiftness. This, how¬ 
ever, is contradicted by another, w 7 ho proves by numer¬ 
ous five dactyle lines in the iEneid and Bucolics that 
are the entire opposite of rapidity. (Classical Review 
No. 21, 119 and following.) The Edinburgh Review 
says that when Virgil wished to produce a rapid dactyle 
verse he used three accents or short syllables. And a 
writer in the Review first mentioned proves that this 
arrangement of dactyles and accent frequently happens 


ONOMATOPOEIA. 


203 


in the Bucolics, where no such adaptation is intended. 
So it was thought that spondees (two long syllables 
each) were used for the purpose of expressing the 
majesty of the gods, prudence, caution and circum¬ 
spection ; but numerous lines are cited by the same 
writer to show that the mere concurrence of spondee 
lines proves little or nothing. Dionysius, referring to 
the description of the sufferings of Sisyphus, claims that 
the heaviness of the stone and the labor of moving it up, 
as well as the swiftness with which it rolls down, are 
placed before our eyes by the disposition of the words, 
long syllables being used for the first and short ones for 
the latter; that the long syllables are composed into 
dactyles and spondees having the greatest length, 
whilst the short ones roll down as if borne along by the 
weight of the stone. However this may be in the origi¬ 
nal, it is doubted if there can be found in Pope’s trans¬ 
lation any rule of the kind in the English adaptation of 
these passages. Indeed, there is but little encourage¬ 
ment for an inference that any general rule is exhibited 
by the examples cited ; and I find no author who is 
able to state any practical theory for adapting sound 
and sense under any principle of art. It seems to 
depend upon the harmony of words, not selected by any 
particular rule of rhyme or verse, but assembled and 
composed by the instinct of genius alone. 


THE SCOTS; 


THEIR CHARACTER. 


4 


The Scottish character ! How shall I speak of it, for 
the Scots will allow nobody to abuse it but themselves ? 
Indeed, it is part of themselves, interwoven with their 
being and constituting their individuality. There is 
nothing about them so Scotch as their character. With¬ 
out its peculiarities they would be as commonplace as 
other people. It is their birthright, the best legacy of 
their forefathers. Generations ago they laid its founda¬ 
tions in the moral and intellectual worth of their nature. 
They did not confine the culture upon which character 
depends to what in other countries might be called the 
educated or better classes of society, but they extended 
the means of knowledge and improvement to all the rus¬ 
tic walks of life and throughout the straitened heritage 
of toil. Hence a high standard of national superiority, 
springing from the combined energies and power of the 
entire race. The Scottish character, therefore, becomes 
the heritage which their ancestors have transmitted to 
each of the race in something like equal proportions. 



THK SCOTS; THEIR CHARACTER. 


205 


The Scottish nation has long been a homogeneous 
people, and yet they sprang from origins quite dissimilar. 
The demarcations of race and language are not yet extin¬ 
guished. In the Highlands, or region north of the Gram¬ 
pian Hills, the Gaelic is still spoken, and in some local¬ 
ities excludes the English, or lowland Scotch, especially 
on the indented shores of the west and the adjacent 
islands. A passionate attachment exists for the aborig¬ 
inal tongue, and it has been carried like the household 
gods of the Gael across every ocean and into every land 
where the ubiquitous Scotchman has made himself a 
home, and has revealed to mankind the national mysteries 
of yellow snuff and sheepshead haggis. 

Mr. Jacob Abbott, the American writer, visited Ster¬ 
ling in 1848, and was surprised to hear some children, 
whom he met on a walk, speaking Gaelic. They accom¬ 
panied him, and he remarks that they, “talk Gaelic, 
laugh Gaelic, and sing Gaelic all the way.” Even in 
this country a few years ago, there were several congre¬ 
gations in South Carolina where nothing but Gaelic was 
preached. In Canada there were settlements dotted along 
rivers for miles, where, save the schoolmaster, not a soul 
could speak English. And in Scotland not a hundred 
years ago the mountaineers were as much puzzled with 
what they called the Saxon talk, as they disliked to use 
it. Said an old Scotch Laird, who was working his way 
slowly through the English idioms : ‘ ‘ One of my lads is 
complaint off. They tell me when he met the dominie 
he took his hat off, and then he met the bailie and 


206 


THE SCOTS; THEIR CHARACTER. 


knocked his hat off. Am I to understand that he stole 
both their bonnets, or only removed them in that way 
for good civility ? 3 3 

No doubt but the old tongue had its beauties as well 
as inconveniences, and perhaps King James was pre¬ 
judiced when he said, “it’s no language for a Protes¬ 
tant people; it’s the mother tongue of purgatory. 33 

Look at old Lord Dunmore, with his Highland enthu¬ 
siasm, who speaks the Gaelic language more perfectly 
than the shepherds with whom he passes long night 
watches in the pasture hills, and forgets that he is a 
Murray of the present day when he places the heather 
bloom beside the silver star on his bonnet. The old 
time breaks through the crust of the new, and the noble 
old ‘ ‘ Laird 3 3 is more sure of his own identity upon his 
native heath than when kissing the hand of a Southern 
Queen. 

From their earliest history the Scottish Celts are pre¬ 
sented to us as a bold and hardy race of men, filled with 
romantic attachment to their native mountains and glens. 
Cherishing an exalted spirit of independence, they were 
bound together in clans by the ties of kindred and affec¬ 
tion. Having little intercourse with the rest of the 
world, and pent up within the Grampian range, the 
Highlanders acquired a peculiar character and exhibited 
manners, costumes, and habits widely differing from 
every other portion of the human family. Their habitual 
seclusion from the world, the familiar contemplation of 
the most sublime objects of nature, and the habit of con- 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


207 


centrating their affections within their own glen and 
clan, together with the necessity of self-reliance amidst 
difficulties and dangers, combined to form an original 
and extraordinary people, of which there is no other 
type in the chronicle of nationalities. No race so wild 
was ever gifted with so much romance and enthusiasm. 
Nor did this poetry of temperament prevent them from a 
disdain of submission to strangers, but it seemed to warm 
them with a fervid love of independence. The chieftains 
exercised a species of paternal despotism, but they assumed 
none of the prerogatives under which the English nobles 
put iron collars on the necks of their serfs ; nor were they 
like the counts of France, who hung their vassals to 
encourage the others, and ravished their wives to con¬ 
sole them for becoming widows. 

The nature of their life encouraged solitary musings 
and a contempt for danger. Delighting in songs and 
traditions, the exploits of their clans and their descent 
from brave and warlike ancestors became the constant 
theme of their pride and emulation. Thus their exer¬ 
cises, amusements, and modes of existence, their motives 
and superstitions, became characteristic, permanent, and 
peculiar. From no other people could the wild and mel¬ 
ancholy songs of Ossian come. I will give you but a 
single .strain from their gloomy echo: 

“I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were 
desolate. The fox looked out from the windows; the 
rank grass of the walls waived around her head. Raise 
the song of the morning, O, Bards, over the land of the 


208 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


stranger; they have but now fallen before us, for one 
day we must fall. Here dost thou behold the wild son 
of the winged days. Thou lookest from thy tower 
today; yet a few years and the blast from the destroyer 
comes. A wind howls in thy empty halls, and whistles 
around thy half-worn shield; let the blast of the destroyer 
come; we shall be remembered in our day.” 

Among their virtues, hospitality and love of country 
are proverbial to this day, and they still retain the high 
and mystic sensibilities which called the harp and the 
minstrel to the cotter’s fireside and the castle hall of 
old. The metrical fragments of the old bards are still 
floating among the hills. Like their Celtic ancestors, 
they were marked by firmness, quickness of wit and 
decision; like them, they were fertile in resources, 
ardent in friendship, jealous of affront, and terrible in 
their resentments. Feuds descended like heirlooms from 
sire to son. 

A Scotch Earl by the name of Kinmore had for a 
lifetime been at deadly feud with a neighboring chief¬ 
tain named McCleugh, and when about to die his chap¬ 
lain reminded him that in spite of a long hereditary feud 
this was the time to forgive even those who had most 
injured him. “ Weel, weel, be it so,” said the old Gael, 
after a short pause, “ gang to McCleugh and tell him I 
forgive him. But my curses light upon my son Donald 
if ever he thinks of doing the like.” 

The race was tall, robust, and formed and trained to 
feats of agility and endurance. The children were 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


200 


steeled to cold by bathing and fresh air from the earliest 
infancy, and their power of sustaining inclemency was 
almost incredible. The peculiar aspect of their country, 
abounding with the wildest and most romantic features; 
the sharp, rugged mountains and dreary wastes ; the 
solitary passes and spectral caves ; the wide stretching 
lakes and rapid torrents ; storms, furious rains, light¬ 
nings and tempests ; the terrific rage of winds along 
the upland crags and through the mountain crannies, 
wrought upon the creative powers of the imagination 
and inclined them to ascribe the disasters of the ele¬ 
ments and the wonderful phenomena of nature to the 
intervention of supernatural beings, malignant or benefi¬ 
cent. Hence their plastic fancies embodied spiritual 
powers in the green shades, in the voices of the winds, 
in the mountain mists and in the stormy lights which 
swept from the sombre Lochs. The Kelpies, a species 
of water spirit, attended women and children, and from 
their subaqueous haunts they were supposed to have the 
power to produce inundations and destroy the harvests. 
They believed that the Wraiths were creatures interme¬ 
diate between mortal men and spirits, able and willing, 
if propitiated, to perform incredible feats of drudgery, 
and that many Highland families had creatures of this 
order attendant on them. They were actually supposed 
to hold assemblies among themselves at the base of 
Ben Venue ; for it is most notable that the machinery of 
a Highland superstition is complete. The powers, 
functions, habits, disposition and haunts of these pre- 


14 


210 


THE SCOTvS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


ternatural agents were all occasionally described. As 
to their performances, they constituted the written and 
unwritten faith of both young and old. Among the 
likes and dislikes of these Wraiths, was an antipathy to 
bagpipes, and a passion for rich porridge. Sometimes 
they wore clothes which were left for them at night, if 
they liked the patterns and colors. Upon one occasion 
it is told that near Loch Earn a Wraith being neglected 
by not finding the bowl of cream left for him, which was 
the usual recompense for a night’s task, took his depart¬ 
ure about daylight, uttering horrible shrieks, and never 
returned to the premises. 

But the most important and interesting race of semi¬ 
spiritual beings was the Duoine-shi, or men of place. 
They sometimes formed attachments to the young 
women, who eloped with them and young mortals are 
said to have chosen sweethearts among the female 
Duoine-shis. They were believed to be of an invidious 
turn of mind and inclined to do injuries to those who 
spoke against them. They had the reputation of being 
inveterate eavesdroppers and invisible intruders. In 
spite of their envious tempers, they were understood to 
dance on green hillocks by moonlight, and all the soft, 
exquisite sounds of nature by nighttime were attributed 
to these fairy people. Among their myths is the one 
of the burning tree, all fire and tongues of flame 
upon the southern side, and sap and verdant foliage on 
the north, which grew in the Cheviot Hills—a sign to 
strengthen Robert Bruce and warn him of the approach 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


211 


of the foe from the south. There are myriads of these 
archaic phantoms which belong as it were to a vanished 
kingdom. 

I shall say nothing about the faculty of second sight, 
in which the visions of the seer were both of actual fact 
and prophetic of events. The long neglected or dis¬ 
credited accounts of this gift are, however, far less won¬ 
derful than those of clairvoyance, which are very gener¬ 
ally believed at the present day. 

Their picturesque dress is. well known, and it is a 
matter of constant surprise how, wdthout the modern 
arts of dyeing, and without a knowledge of the colors 
now invented, they succeeded in producing the beauti¬ 
ful varieties of the old Highland tartans. 

But as to the pride of birth and aristocratic proclivi¬ 
ties, we can find good reasons for their lingering hold on 
their sensibilities. The aristocratic system was blended 
with the patriarchal element of the primordial races of 
Scotland. The head of a clan not only looked at his 
acknowledged order by the monarch as the evidence of 
his authority, but he looked far beyond it to the religious 
fidelity of his clan, who held him as their father and 
chief. The Scotts and Johnstons of the South formed 
clans as well as the Campbells and Camerons of the 
West; the Norman Lindsays no less than the Celtic 
Macphersons, and wdien they went to war it was, as one 
of the Douglasses said, “ to keep their hand in, in case 
a common enemy turned up.” The feudal command 
of their clans as vassals continued long after the mediae- 


212 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


val characteristics had disappeared in England, and 
hence with a great deal of truth the French to this day 
use the expression, Fier comme un Ecossais ,—proved as 
a Scot. 

The old Scotch stories deal with such men as the bad 
Lord of Lovat, or the grim old Marquis of Breadalbane, 
who sent his clan to slaughter the Glenco people, on his 
own responsibility, long after the imperial government 
was established. These men were tough customers, no 
doubt, but neither fools nor drones. In all the stories, 
of an almost incredible singularity, we discern a deep, 
natural sagacity and grim mirth under the mask and 
guise of oddity. When old Breadalbane was ill in Lon¬ 
don, his landlord, who had often heard him reproached 
with severity towards his retainers, asked him if there 
was anything he could eat, at the same time telling over 
the contents of his larder. ‘ ‘ I think,’ ’ said the old Gael, 
suddenly lifting his face from the folds of some tartan 
round it, “I could eat a bit of a poor man.” In Scot¬ 
land this poor man means a blade-bone of mutton. But 

/ f 

his face and manner frightened the landlord out of the 
room, believing that his Lordship ate his tenants at 
home when indisposed. In his last paroxysm, being 
four score years and ten, an assistant, we are told, held 
a mirror to his face to see if he yet breathed. Being 
night, a servant-maid held a candle to the mirror, when 
he made so frightful a grimace that she dropped the 
candle on his chest. He was still sufficiently sensible 
to pain to make the most extraordinary remark that ever 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


213 


came from the lips of a dying man. “ God sakes,” said 
he, “if King David had had as hot a bedfellow as that 
candle he would have been alive yet.’’ 

The Lowlanders are equally distinguished by their 
peculiarities, and I doubt if anybody can know them or 
describe them but the Scots themselves. It may truly 
be said that nobody but a Scotchman can know a Scotch¬ 
man. We know that generally the qualities ascribed to 
them are caution, thoughtfulness and vigor—with a 
somewhat hardness and aridness of character, without 
much spontaneity of feeling, and no hesitation in prais¬ 
ing Scotland from New Years to New Years. But this 
is an extremely one-sided opinion, and they can scarcely 
be contented to stand for such a portrait. Now I am 
willing to admit that he is not always a pleasant kind of 
a man. He is not quite a saint, but I deny that his 
nature is without the poetic vein which softens both 
character and feeling. Indeed, there is no people in the 
world that has such a mass of legendary poetry, excell¬ 
ing in tenderness and beauty. But the difficulty is, so 
far as other people are concerned, that with the Scotch 
this ideal feeling is a thing apart from the other rela¬ 
tions of life. It is just as if they had an additional 
faculty or sense, which was useless in procuring the 
necessaries of life, but supreme in procuring its happi¬ 
ness. People may think he is without this sensibility 
because it does not enter into the daily habit of his life, 
but no greater mistake could occur. At this moment 
there is no great poet, yet we could find hundreds 


214 THE SCOTS; THEIR CHARACTER. 

among the weavers and mechanics of Renfrewshire and 
Ayrshire who would be accounted great poets if they 
lived in another country and wrote in a different dia¬ 
lect. The lowland Scot is, in a great measure, the 
offspring from a union of the Gael and the Saxon, and 
the best blood of the two great races appears to have 
been sifted into his veins. They unite Teutonic solidity 
with Celtic dash, prudence with passion, industry with 
religious zeal, and the whole is exquisitely seasoned 
with antiquarian and natural sentiment and romance. 
And yet he is the most practical of mortals. Nowhere 
will you find a people that unite such strenuous indus¬ 
try with a due sense of the fitness of things, and that 
come down with such a will to the matter of fact issues 
on earth, and yet rise by intuitive impulse to the things 
of the invisible and the impalpable. He applies his 
faculties to the realities of life whether he has wandered 
to the regions cold as Nova Zembla, or dwells in the 
meadows and orchards and vineyards on the side of 
some great Alp, with purple rocks on its side and eternal 
snows above. Indeed, the Scots are such an itinerant 
race that they have given St. Andrew a cosmopolitan 
character, and he was naturalized as an American saint 
before St. Patrick or St. George applied for their first 
papers. 

The Frenchman sees little of the Scot but his 
romantic side—the Englishman little but his prosaic 
side. The Frenchman looks upon Highlander and 
Eowlander alike, and from rather a sentimental point of 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


215 


view. To him the Scot is still the soldier of fortune, 
proud of blood and eager both in argument and conflict. 
He is either a feudal relic, or an exiled Jacobin of the 
last Stuart Court. The Englishman sees the soberer 
and uglier side of the question. He has no fancy for 
tartan, and insists that Dr. Johnson had no prejudices. 
But truth belongs neither to romance nor fiction, and if 
the Scot of romance is rarely met with, the Scot of 
English satire it is impossible to find. He is solid, 
sagacious and sometimes grasping. He has great pride 
of birth and love of argument. He can chop logic with 
the best of them, and split a metaphysical or theological 
dogma into the ten-thousandth part of the diameter of a 
hair. He is always educated, and it is confidently 
claimed that the rustic and mechanical classes are better 
informed than their compeers in any other country. He 
is, therefore, apt to give tone to the society which sur¬ 
rounds him rather than to imbibe one from it, and 
although a friend to all the social moralities he always 
enjoys the qualities of good-fellowship. He thinks of 
the past, he contemplates the future and keeps a mighty 
canny lookout for the present. He educates his chil¬ 
dren, pays attention to his business and marries for love. 

In politics and religion he is perfectly tolerant of all 
opinions which precisely agree with his own, and yet he 
is a liberal minded citizen, neither a pliable man of the 
world, nor an egotistical cosmopolitan, and when there 
is a matter of principle or money at stake he has no idea 
of giving either of them up. He is the only man in the 


216 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


world who can be wise and witty at the same time, and 
who can get drunk soberly and with discretion. Above 
all he is brave, reliable, honest, humane, intellectual 
and with a vein of humor absolutely peculiar and often 
exquisitely flavored. Of all people in the world he rel¬ 
ishes a little caustic satire upon his own foibles and 
fancies. He has too much sense to be thin skinned, 
and none enjoy more than he a laugh at his own 
expense. A Scot being asked to define his country¬ 
men, replied : “A Scotchman is a man who keeps the 
Sabbath day and everything else he puts his hands 
upon.” We are all familiar with the remark of SjMney 
Smith, that it requires a chirurgical operation to get 
a joke into a Scotchman’s head. “Yes,” replied a 
canny Scot, “if it is an English joke;” which proves 
that if it is difficult to get one inside his skull it required 
no act of surgery to get a caustic one out of it. The 
wit of Mr. Aytoun hurts none of the old Highland 
families, who are especially kittle on the point of feuds 
and descents. In his massacre of the McPherison he 
begins and ends thus : 

Pharison swore a feud 
Against the Clan McTavish, 

Marched into their land 
To murder and to ravish : 

For he did resolve 

To extirpate the vipers 
With four and twenty men 
And five and thirty pipers. 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


217 


Pharison had a son 

Who married Noah’s daughter, 

And nearly spoiled ta flood 

By trinking up ta water. 

****** 

Which he would have done, 

I, at least, believe it, 

Had ta mixture peen 
Only half Glenlivet. 

A friend of mine one day met a Scotch gentleman 
whose name was Leitch , and who explained to him that 
he was not the popular caricaturist, John Leech. “ I am 
aware of that,” said my friend, “ you are a Scotchman 
with the i, t, c, h, to 3^our name.” 

Let me balance this with an anecdote ; one of those 
epicene, unimpassioned thoughts that can neither move 
you to mirth nor tears, but touches your sympathies and 
leaves you suspended between pity and interest. It 
requires a Scotch accent, which, if it ever existed in 1113^ 
family, is probably mislaid with many other things' 
coming across the ocean, to tell it—it is this : The 
crops were much laid in an agricultural district by tem¬ 
pests. Wind was required to restore them to a condi¬ 
tion for the sickle. A minister in his Sabbath services 
expressed the wants of his parishioners in prayer as 
follows : 

“ Send us wind, 110 a rantan, tantin, taring wind, but 
a woolim, soughlim, winlim wind.” Can more express¬ 
ive notes than these be found in the gamut of man’s 
voice in prayer ? 


21S 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


Dr. Dunlap, while making his pastoral visitations 
among some of the country members of his flock, came 
to a farm-house where he was expected, and the mis¬ 
tress, thinking that he would be in need of refreshments, 
proposed that he should take his tea before engaging in 
exercises, and said she would soon have it ready. Mr. 
Dunlap replied, “ I aye tak’ my tea better when my 
wark is done. I’ll just be gaun on. Ye can bring the 
pan on, and lea’ the door ajar, and I’ll draw to a close 
in prayer when I hear the ham a fizzin.” 

Dr. Dunlap was preaching a sermon for the benefit 
of a new kirk. He was startled by a snore in one of his 
highest flights of pulpit eloquence, and observed that it 
came from the nostrils of the chief man of the parish. 
He stopped at once and looking at an old woman, said, 
“Jeanne, ha’ ye got a pin?” “Yes, Dominie,” she 
answered. “ Well, gang across the aisle and stick it in 
that snoring brute. ’ ’* 

* While these pages are going through the press, the Rev. Dr. 
T. DeWitt Talmage has published a letter describing his recent visit 
to Scotland, and here is what he says about the people : 

There is something about the Scotch character, whether I meet it in New 
York, or London, or Perth, that thrills me through and through. Perhaps it 
may be because I have such a strong tide of Scotch blood in my own arteries. 
Next to my own beloved country give me Scotland for residence and grave. 
The people are in such downright earnest. There is such a roar in their mirth, 
like a tempest in “ The Trossacks.” 

Take a Glasgow audience, and a speaker must have his feet well planted 
on the platform, or he will be overmastered by the sympathy of the populace. 
They are not ashamed to cry, with their broad palms wiping away the tears, 
and they make no attempt at suppression of glee. They do not simper, or 
snicker, or chuckle. Throw a joke into a Scotchman’s ear and it rolls down to 
the center of his diaphragm and then spreads out both ways, toward the foot 
and brow, until the emotion becomes volcanic, and from the longest hair on 



THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


219 


Although the Scot is conservative in the best sense, 
he is also progressive. He stands with the foremost in 
hailing the good time coming. He stands with those 
on the most advanced promontory of time. It may be 
with a sadness that he sees the ocean of the past reced¬ 
ing with its historical grandeurs and golden legends, 
whilst no one welcomes more than he the rushing sea 
of power, improvement and material wealth which 
brings its tribute to the present, and which promises a 
better order of things hereafter upon the earth ; and he 
raises his hands reverently to heaven and thanks the 
God of his fathers that he beholds the advancing desti¬ 
nies of the race. 

Scotland, like England, was in pursuit of political 
freedom and religious reformation, but she was shut out 
of the southern part of the common island, and naturally 
formed connections with the kingdoms across the chan¬ 
nel. I cannot enumerate the influences by which the 
English character was worked out in their long proba¬ 
tion under Saxon, Danish, Norman, English, Scotch, 
Dutch, and lastly under a German prince, like George 
the First, who honestly for once said, on his arrival, “ My 

the crown of the head to the tip end of the nail on the big toe there is paroxysm 
of cachination. No half and half about the Scotch character. What he hates, 
he hates ; what he likes, he likes. And he lets you know it right away. He 
goes in for Cord Salisbury or William E. Gladstone, and is altogether Tory or 
Liberal. His politics decided, his religion decided; get him right, and he is 
magnificently right ; get him wrong, and he is awfully wrong. A Scotchman 
seldom changes. By the time he has fairly landed on his feet in this world he 
has made up his mind, and he keeps it made up. If he dislikes a fiddle in 
church you cannot smuggle it in under the name of a bass viol. And I like this 
persistence. Life is so short that a man can’t afford to change his mind. 



220 


THE SCOTS; THEIR CHARACTER. 


dear peoples, we has come for all your goods,” nor can 
we inquire whether a hatred to Papacy or a superior 
attachment to roast beef has made their revered sov¬ 
ereign the mistress of lands which belt the globe ; but 
the distinctions which yet remain between Scotland and 
England are just sufficient to give zest and point to the 
difference. 

The architecture of Scotland is more French than 
English. Its church edifices, and the towers and tur¬ 
rets still remaining in Fife and Aberdeen, were more 
copies of the structures in Lorraine and Provence than the 
piles which were reared in the south part of the island, 
and to this day the kirk of Scotland is more like that 
of Holland than England. And so, too, in language ; 
the intercourse with France introduced almost a new 
vocabulary of French words into the old dialect, which 
can yet be observed in the half-effaced “fleur-de-lis ” in 
Oueen Mary’s chapel. 

But in spite of continental influences Protestantism 
became the symbol of the Scotch nationality, as well as 
the established religion of England, and their ultimate 
union was more durable than if it had taken place by 
the violence of Edward the First, or the other military 
invasions of his successors. The two countries were 
joined by the sanctity of an equal marriage, and not by 
the humiliation of a royal rape. 

But the universal education of the Scots makes them 
at this day less liable to follow any model or, indeed, to 
be bigoted towards any practices. At home he is 


THE SCOTS; THEIR CHARACTER. 


221 


attached to the faith and observances of his forefathers, 
as a matter of reason and from a kindly feeling of asso¬ 
ciation and affinity. He knows that he was baptized in 
the parish kirk with the proper ceremony, and probably 
held soon after the time by his dad over the family 
punch bowl. Away from the blue hills of Scotia he 
is essentially a liberal minded citizen and a good friend 
and neighbor. 

The Scottish vernacular had an origin long before the 
Norman Conquest of England and the end of the Saxon 
rule ; and the literature and language of the Kingdom of 
Northumbria, reaching from the Humber to the River 
Forth, were widely distinguished from the Saxon of 
Southern England ; and long after the rapid transition 
into a rude and unformed English, the northern people 
retained their peculiar and distinct dialect. It was the 
mother tongue of two thirds of the people from New¬ 
castle-upon-Tyne along the whole west coast and Low¬ 
lands of Scotland. This tongue was spoken by the 
Kings of Scotland shortly before the union. It still exists 
in sequestered haunts to this day, and is the mother of 
the Lowland Scotch which we read in Sir Walter Scott’s 
novels, and hear in great perfection around the banks of 
the Yarrow, and in the verse of Burns. But in his day 
everybody understood Scotch, and although it may be 
said to have still a literature, yet it is not a diffusive 
one. What is true in literature of the well-informed 
Scot is true in the habits of life. He now never calls 
money “siller,” or gooseberries “grossets.” If his 


222 


THE SCOTS; THEIR CHARACTER. 


tipple is discolored he may say it is “drumlie,” but 
beyond this and a few more words, he would rather be 
thought to affect purism in English than to be confined 
to a Scotch vocabulary. Even such beautiful and 
expressive words as bonnie , winsome and soncy are pro¬ 
nounced half the time with an apologetic tone of voice, 
as if it might be thought pedantic for a Scot to betray a 
knowledge of his mother language. 

A thousand years ago Scotland was barbarous. Five 
hundred years ago she ran blood from every glen with 
internecine conflicts. About the time of the Reforma¬ 
tion she was completely demoralized as a sovereign 
polity ; but since that day she seems to have been 
selected as an instrument in civilization to the world, 
and she has not yet shivered in the hands of Providence. 

But it is too late in this period of human information 
to ignore the achievements of Scotland in science, let¬ 
ters or war, for what she has done in the arts, in 
agriculture, in enterprise, in industry, in history and 
theology, in verse and prose, are but the materials with 
which other nations are continuing their progress and 
attaining their ultimate destiny. 

Of the various nations who combine application 
and tenacity of purpose with vigor and sprightliness of 
intellect, it is not difficult to cite examples, but in the 
main these qualities would be found only among the 
educated classes, or at least within what the world 
denominates the better classes of society. But in Scot¬ 
land I am willing to extend the ordeal of hard, personal 


THE SCOTS ; THEIR CHARACTER. 


223 


industry, linked to mental vivacity and mother wit, to 
the rustic walks of life, to the watcher at the sheepfold 
and the artisan in the workshop, and through all the 
straitened heritage of toil and poverty. He knows very 
well how to build ocean steamers and to weave the finest 
fabrics and to keep a sharp eye upon the markets all 
over the world. 


OLIVER CROMWELL; 


SOME ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS IN HIS LIFE. 


This extraordinary man sprang, as we well know, 
from the middle ranks of the people, whose champion 
and prince he became. Of his extreme youth, marvel¬ 
ous anecdotes were related in his days of power. A 
portion of them, whether true or false, so long as they 
steer clear of supernatural occurrences, are sufficiently 
credible, since general rumor mostly keeps up its credit 
by not inventing impossibilities. One of these stories 
possesses that kind of interest which our nature always 
extracts from any incident of an ominous stamp. The 
following tradition of the place where the scene is laid, 
recounts that on the visit of James the First to Hinchin- 
brook, his son Charles, then a mere child, accompanied 
him. In order to amuse the little crown-prince, Sir 
Oliver Cromwell sent for his nephew, Oliver, then less 
than five years old. After playing together a short 
time, the boys fell out; and before any one could inter¬ 
fere the prince had received a thump on his nose from 
young Cromwell’s hand which produced an abundant 
effusion of blood ; he had drawn the embryo monarch’s 
claret. 



OLIVER CROMWELL. 


225 


There is nothing strange about the legend ; from his 
birth Cromwell was wayward and violent beyond the 
most petulant of children, of rigid features and iron 
muscle. The prince, a “ baby Charles,” as his comi¬ 
cal sire always termed him, was afflicted with the same 
malformation of his extremities that occasioned the lat¬ 
ter to lean constantly upon men’s shoulders. In this 
infantine encounter the royal sapling had no chance 
against the knotty plebeian oak; and the fact would 
not have been remembered and exhumed had Charles 
hung Cromwell instead of losing his own head. It is 
to be presumed that no one predicted the most fearful 
catastrophe of the revolution, when its chief actors were 
hardly out of their baby clothes. Yet marvel-mongers 
have often rolled up the whites of their eyes, and 
wheezed out that the curtain of the future was surely 
upraised when one little urchin gave the other a bloody 
nose. 

The authority of Cromwell himself is claimed to 
father the following ghostly prognostication: that whilst 
yet a school-boy he had lain himself down, too fatigued 
to sleep, when the curtains of his bed were withdrawn, 
and, as Burns says : 

“ He saw a stern and stalwart form arise, 

Attired as ancient minstrels wont to be,” 

except that the stalwart form was of the fair sex ; in 
fine, a gigantic woman; and she predicted that before 
his death he should be the greatest man in England. 
This vaticination has not so much dramatic machinery to 


15 


226 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


make it impressive as the witches declaring to Glamis, 
Thane of Cawdor, “ Thou shalt be king hereafter,” 
nor is it at all up to the mark of Hecuba dreaming, 
before the birth of Paris, that she was about to bring 
into the world a fire-brand that would wrap Troy in 
conflagration. It nevertheless would fall into the class 
of auguries of which we never hear a word until they 
are fulfilled, were it not for a passage in Clarendon, who 
declares, “ it was generally spoken of in the beginning 
of the troubles, when he was in a position that did not 
promise such exaltation.” 


CROMWELL’S FATHER, THE BREWER. 

His father, Robert Cromwell, who was a younger 
son, and cut off by the system of primogeniture, or first¬ 
born inheritance, had received a very limited fortune 
from his father. Few of the golden meadows and 
princely forest-lands, out of which Henry the Eighth had 
turned the monks and nuns and all others who abode 
in the English patrimony of St. Peter, had fallen to his 
share. He was, therefore, obliged to make his way 
through the world by dint of industry and frugality. 
Among other ways of keeping the wolf from the door, 
he became the proprietor of a brewery. Of this fact the 
royalists and cavaliers have made an unlimited use. 
The following is a specimen of their metrical style of 
pasquinade; it is entitled “The Protesting Brewer,” 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 


227 


and, although stupid as a general thing, an occasional 
gleam of fun breaks out of it : 

“ A Brewer may be a parliament man, 

For there the knavery first began, 

And brew most cunning plots he can, 

Which nobody can deny. 

“ A Brewer may be as bold as Hector, 

And a Brewer may be a Lord Protector, 

Which nobody can deny.” 

The remaining stanzas are not worth quoting ; the 
last one, however, is : 

“ A Brewer may do whatever he will, 

And rob the church and state to sell 
His soul unto the fiends of hell, 

Which nobody can deny.” 


HIS FIRST APPEARANCE IN PARLIAMENT. 

At the meeting of the House of Commons in 1628 
he was introduced by his relative—near to him by con¬ 
sanguinity, by marriage, and nearer still by the com¬ 
mon cause in which they were both enlisted. This was 
the celebrated John Hampden, the handsomest man of 
his day, with a countenance that at once expressed the 
dignity of his intellect and the sweetness of his nature. 
It was the new member for Huntingdon, but how unlike 
his cousin John Hampden. His gait suburban, if not 
clownish, his dress ill-made and slovenly, his manner 
coarse and abrupt, and his face such as men look on 
with a vague feeling of admiration and dislike. The 




228 


OIvIVER CROMWEEL. 


features cut, as it were, out of a piece of gnarled and 
knotty oak, the nose large and red, the cheeks coarse, 
wasted, wrinkled and sallow, the eyebrows high and 
shaggy, but glistening, from beneath them, eyes full of 
depth and meaning, and when turned to the gaze, pierc¬ 
ing through and through the gazer. Above these, again, 
a noble forehead, whence on either side an open flow of 
long hair, and pervading his whole air and presence 
that indefinable aspect of greatness alluded to by the 
poet: 

“Did imprint an awe, 

And naturally all souls to his did bow 

As wands of divination downward draw 

And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow.” 

Sir Peter Lely’s celebrated picture of Cromwell clad 
in the armor that was covered with the dints of swords 
and battle-axes at the contest of Marston Moor, con¬ 
firms the word-paintings of contemporary memoirs in 
regard to his personal appearance. We may be assured 
that the likeness of the Protector, then Lieutenant-Gen¬ 
eral of England, was not a flattered one, for he com¬ 
menced his sittings to the artist by telling him, sternly, 
“ not to inflict any nonsense upon the canvas, but to 
paint him as God had made and the world had left 
him, warts, scars, wrinkles and all.” But these pecu¬ 
liarities of appearance were almost unnoticed among the 
men with whom he made common cause. The fervor 
of delivery and sustained wisdom of the new accession 
to their cause passed, in the eyes of such men as Hamp- 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


229 


den, Pym, Sir Robert Phillips and Sir John Elliot, as 
accidental characteristics. They recognized in the firm 
set, determinate lips, the fair large front, the facial 
angle and threatening brow, a man who could not be 
driven from his position as long as he chose to defend 
it. He had now openly chosen his part with that 
mighty body of resolute men who were pledged to the 
death against a continuance of the old, corrupt and irre¬ 
sponsible government of England. He already was 
possessed with the unceasing thought of the great 
motives that might be infused into inferior men by an 
appeal to a single tremendous passion—a passion in the 
presence of which pleasure should fail to allure and 
suffering be unheeded—a lofty enthusiasm by which all 
possible vices and follies in basest and weakest natures, 
and in the lowest born and most untutored people, might 
be subdued and moulded to the highest purposes. 
Hampden studied how best an army should be managed 
and led to victory; Cromwell pondered how best an 
army could be drawn from the contaminated lees of the 
people. This Parliament, in which Cromwell made his 
first appearance, was dissolved by the King. It is mem¬ 
orable from having led to the imprisonment and death 
of Sir John Elliot. During an investigation of the 
malfeasances of Mainwaring, the royal Chaplain, for 
the first time the voice—hereafter to be so potent in the 
councils of England—was suddenly heard in what are 
described by Rushworth as untunable but piercing- 
tones, announcing to the royalists a foe to grapple with, 
and to the patriots an ally beyond price. 


230 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


CROMWELL SEIZED THE SILVER PLATE OF THE UNI¬ 
VERSITY AND OF HIS UNCLE. 


Among the innumerable instances of Cromwell’s 
fealty to the cause of the patriots, his acts when the 
war had broken out in 1642 are remarkable for their 
vigor and relentless violence. He commanded a troop 
of horse only. With all his attachment to learning and 
to the University which had cherished him, he waylaid 
their carriers and seized all the silver plate of the endow¬ 
ment for the parliamentary cause. Nor in these first 
decisive moments did Cromwell forget his uncle Sir 
Oliver’s powers of mischief and aptitude to use them. 
He marched over to Ramsey Moor, found his uncle at 
home, and, having treated him personally with every 
demonstration of studied kindness and respect, reso¬ 
lutely took from him all his means of assisting the King 
at that instant. The scene must have been strange on 
both sides; but it illustrates in Cromwell with singular 
force one of the most remarkable qualities of his char¬ 
acter. Sir Philip Warwick relates the anecdote as it 
came from the lips of Sir Oliver himself. He said that 
his nephew and godson visited him with a good, strong 
party of horse and asked him for his blessing. He 
remained a few hours at Chinchebroke and refused to 
wear his hat in his uncle’s presence, but attended upon 
him bareheaded. When he had refreshed his men and 
his horses, he disarmed his uncle and his retainers, put 
them under a guard, and, in addition to his uncle’s 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 


231 


blessing, took away with him every ounce of silver plate 
. upon the premises. 


LORD OF THE FENS. 

Before long an occasion arose of which he made the 
most skillful use to further all the eager hopes and 
wishes he had nursed. In those days a tract of land 
called the Fens comprised some millions of acres, and, for 
want of drainage, prevented the cultivation of the finest 
plains in Huntingshire and the three counties contiguous 
to it. A portion of this area called the Bedford level, 
equal to 25 miles in length and as many in width, had 
been already reclaimed when a proposition to the Crown 
was made, offering a fair proportion of the soil for its 
countenance, assistance and authority in completion of 
the enterprise. Consequently a Court was held in the 
Fen districts for the adjudication of claims in any way 
connected with the property. The commissioners, 
anxious to ingratiate themselves with the King, decided 
all questions in his favor, and endeavored to deprive the 
originators of the improvement of nearly 100,000 acres 
already awarded to them as a recompense. The com¬ 
mon people began to murmur, to clamor for justice and 
to threaten; meetings were held. From the instant that 
Oliver Cromwell appeared on the scene as an auxiliary 
of the masses, the scheme became thoroughly hopeless. 
With such desperate determination he followed up his 
purpose, with such unabated celerity he traversed the 






232 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


district and inflamed the people everywhere, so pas¬ 
sionately he described the greed of royalty, the gross . 
exactions of the commission, and inveighed against the 
questionable character of the improvement itself, even if 
it could have been achieved without the accompanying 
incidents of tyranny and extortion, insisting to the small 
proprietors that their minor claims would be merely 
scorned in the new distribution of the property reclaimed 
—that he almost constituted himself by sheer force of his 
defiant intellect the arbiter of public opinion. To the 
laboring peasants he vividly deplored that all the profit, 
amusement and exercise they had derived from the 
common pasturage and wild sports of these extensive 
wastes, were about to be snatched from them forever ; 
and so deeply did he agitate the sense of self-interest, 
the attachment to the immunities of these picturesque 
savannahs and the distrust of the Court, among the 
rustic populace as well as in classes of inhabitants far 
superior to them, that before his almost single individual 
energy, King, commissioners, noble proprietors, all, 
were forced to retire, and this great project, even in the 
state it then was, fell to the ground. 

The marked feature of the case was that the Earl of 
Bedford and numerous influential gentlemen whose 
estates bordered upon tracts, which lying submerged in 
the winter, were dry and verdant during the summer 
solstice, received the aid and good-will of all classes, 
until the name and interest of the King became involved 
in the system of improvement. When this occurred 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


233 


Cromwell saw an irresistible opportunity of impressing 
with a sense of his influence not only the masses of 
small proprietors and of the lower orders of discontented 
men whose rights and pleasures were now found to be 
endangered by the scheme, but also of exhibiting that 
influence to all England in the defeat of the King, his 
commissioners, and of an enterprise that would have 
yielded immense revenues to the Crown. 

A pure motive of good may have engaged him at 
first, but it was certainly a mixed motive of good and 
evil that shaped his ultimate course. We may feel con¬ 
fident in this practical estimate of what passed through 
the great adventurer’s mind when he clutched one of 
those propitious conjunctures on which a man’s fortunes 
may hinge once, and once only in a lifetime. For when, 
long years afterwards, Lieutenant-General of the king¬ 
dom, he was the chief advocate for the progress of the 
gigantic system of internal improvement he had for¬ 
merly denounced and arrested. 


HIS FIRST ELECTION TO PARLIAMENT. 

In 1640 when the writs were issued for the election 
of the famous body called the Long Parliament, from 
its session of thirteen years, Cromwell’s influence around 
Huntingdon and Efy was supreme. The common peo¬ 
ple worshiped him. He was known everywhere by the 
strange sobriquet of the “Lord of the Fens.” The 
friends of Hampden congratulated this great statesman 




234 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


on the eminent position his kinsman had attained as the 
champion of popular rights. 

Inquiries were made and interests approached in 
order to find a constituency by whom he could be 
elected. Such success was deemed impossible for him 
in his native Huntingdonshire. His uncle was lavishly 
consuming his whole estate in supporting the royal 
interests, and was embittered past all reconciliation 
with his nephew, -whom he opposed with all his influ¬ 
ence and means. The writs appeared and Cromwell 
offered himself for Cambridge. He was encountered by 
a formidable opposition, lead by John Cleaveland,-the 
poet, who possessed wit, eloquence and great university 
influence, all of which he levelled in every way at the 
pretensions of Cromwell. The contest was obstinately 
fierce and ended in Cromwell’s return by a single vote. 
“ That vote,” exclaimed Cleaveland, whose ample power 
of mind had detected the character of his opponent, 
‘‘that single vote hath ruined both church and state.” 
In aftertimes the Protector paid the poet back with 
interest this opposition. Cleaveland was imprisoned, 
and solaced his hours of seclusion with anti-Cromwellian 
satires. 

“ What’s a Protector ? He’s a stately thing, 

That apes it in the nonage of a king, 
aEsop’s proud ass veiled in a lion’s skin, 

An outward saint, lined with a devil within, 

In fine he’s one we must Protector call, 

From whom the King of Kings protect us all.” 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


235 


CROMWELL’S PERSONAL APPEARANCE IN THE HOUSE 

OF COMMONS. 

We are indebted to Sir Philip Warwick for much 
excellent portraiture about the notables of his time. 
“The first time I ever took notice of him,” says Sir 
Philip, “was in the Parliament of November, 1640, 
when I vainly thought myself a courtly young gentle¬ 
man, for we courtiers valued ourselves much upon the 
style and qualities of our clothes. I came to my place 
in the house one morning well clad, and perceived a 
gentleman speaking, whom I knew not, but ordinarily 
appareled, for he wore a plain cloth suit, which seemed 
to have been made by a bungling country tailor ; his 
linen was plain and not very clean. I remember some 
specks of blood upon his little-band, which was not 
much larger than his collar ; his hat was without a hat¬ 
band. His stature was of good size; his sword stuck 
close to his side ; his countenance was reddish, his 
voice sharp and untunable. But his eloquence was full 
of fervor,” and, Sir Philip continues, “ I sincerely pro¬ 
fess that it lessened much of my reverence toward that 
great council, for he was very much harkened to.” It 
is amusing to observe how closely the pertinacious bias 
of a dandy who wore a doublet and elastic hose two cen¬ 
turies ago, with a tripple ruffle nearly as high up as his 
ears and spread as wide as his collar bones, all sur¬ 
mounted with a slouched hat and enormous feather 
in it, resembled the prejudices of a modern exquisite 
against any solecism in wearing apparel. Sir Philip 



236 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


Warwick, with all his sense and good nature, felt 
ashamed of that unmatched aggregation of wisdom, cul¬ 
ture and eloquence, because they listened with attention 
and deference to an orator who employed a provincial 
artist of the shears. “ But,” says the garrulous knight, 
“ I lived to see this very gentleman whom, out of no ill- 
will to him, I thus describe, by multiplied successes, 
and mere converse among good company, and especially 
the employment of a better tailor, appear in Whitehall 
of great and majestic deportment and comely presence.” 

Hampden left the house on the day Sir Philip wit¬ 
nessed what he has described so well. Lord Digby, 
who had first appeared in public life as a member of 
that Parliament, accosted him: “ Pray,” said he to 
Mr. Hampden, “who is that man, that sloven that just 
spoke, for I see he is on our side by his speaking so 
warmly ? ’ ’ Hampden answered him in these memorable 
words: “ That sloven whom you see before you hath 
little ornament in his speech ; that sloven, I say, if it 
should ever come to a breach with the King, which God 
forbid—in that case, I say, that sloven will be the 
greatest man in England.” 


SEIZING THE KING’S PROCLAMATION AT ST. ALBANS. 

Cromwell had rendered important services to the 
liberal cause before the King had raised his standard in 
the field. He had laid a solid foundation for his famous 
regiment of Ironsides, and had armed them at his own 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 


237 


cost. He was without any commission or authority 
when he performed the daring service of seizing the 
person of Sir Thomas Conisby. Sir Thomas was the 
High Sheriff of the County of Herts, who had come to 
St. Albans on the market day for the purpose of pro¬ 
claiming as traitors the Earl of Essex and all who 
should become his followers. The self-same important 
knight had arrived and was grandly unfolding his 
momentous proclamation, which the Bailiffs and Bur¬ 
gesses felt assured would crush all budding treason in 
the land. He was dilating on the punishment to be 
inflicted upon the wretches who had annoyed the best 
of kings, the honor to wdiich he was admitted in being 
its bearer and promulgator, and the gratification he 
received from the public dinner to which the corpora¬ 
tion of St. Albans had invited him, and the protection 
his presence afforded them, when a distant glitter of the 
sun from polished steel was seen, glancing along an 
umbrageous lane. Suddenly a troop of grim horsemen 
in armor burst into the public square, and in utter 
silence, except the noise of their horses’ feet and their 
jingling scabbards, they wheeled around the syndics of 
the city, and their glorified guest, Sir Thomas Conisby. 
He pulls a proclamation out of his pocket, and the next 
moment the iron grip of Oliver Cromwell is on his throat; 
the proclamation is torn down, those in the knight’s 
budget burnt, and himself, baggage, correspondence and 
money bags hurried to London before the civic feast 
could be dished. 


238 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


CROMWELL’S ADDRESS TO HIS SOLDIERS. 

He raised a regiment a thousand men strong, and 
when they marched to the field he gave them a piece of 
instruction which would have made some of his timor¬ 
ous parliamentarian comrades shiver. Said he to his 
soldiers : “I will not perplex you (since I have heard 
other officers instruct their troops in the nice, legal fic¬ 
tions of their civil superiors) with any such phrases as 
fighting for the King and Parliament; the phrase is a 
contradiction, a lie and a delusion ; it is for the Par¬ 
liament alone they were marching into military service; 
for myself, if I should meet King Charles in the body 
of the enemy, I would as soon clap a pistol to his head 
as to any other man’s. And if any soldier present feels 
himself troubled with a conscience that would forbid 
him to do the like, I would advise him to quit the 
service he is engaged in.” A terrific shout of zeal, 
applause and grim determination announced that every 
swordsman on the parade had long ago discovered that 
the best luck that could happen to him would be to 
unhorse the King of England. 


HIS CHAPLAINS AND BUFFOONS. 

Certain traits in his character not only puzzled but 
scandalized society. The very selection of his chap¬ 
lains seems to countenance the notion that with him 
religion was rather a matter of policy than a persuasion, 
and a matter, therefore, over which he preferred to have 





OLIVER CROMWELL. 239 

such placed in authority as he could himself influence 
or rule. Thus he was ill at ease with the serious preach¬ 
ers. His favorites were Hugh Peters, who was half 
mad ; Sterry, who appears only to have been half-wit¬ 
ted ; John Goodwin, who looked forward to the millen¬ 
nium ; Thomas, who roared about the five points of 
salvation, and Jerry White. Supposing religious pre¬ 
tension to have been somewhat a matter of assumption 
with Cromwell, it would seem to explain the source of 
his remarkable fondness for buffoonery. It had become 
a necessary relief from the pain of so much insincerity 
to fling himself, when he could, headlong into the oppo¬ 
site extreme. He kept four buffoons at Whitehall, and 
when inclined to sport made himself a fifth. Here was 
the reality of his nature vindicating itself, somehow. 
Dr. Hutton has preserved the record of a very remark¬ 
able scene of this sort. “At the marriage of his 
daughter, the Lady Frances, to Mr. Birt, the guardian 
and heir of the Earl of Warwick, the Protector’s mind 
at that moment was far from being at ease ; he amused 
himself by throwing about the sack posset among the 
ladies to spoil their clothes, which they took as a favor, 
as also sweetmeats, and daubed all the stools where 
they were to sit with similar preserves. He pulled off 
Rich’s wig, and would have thrown it into the fire; he 
did not, but sat down upon it. An old, formal courtier, 
Sir Thomas Billingsley, was gentleman usher to the 
Queen of Bohemia, but entertained among them, and 
he danced before them with his cloak and sword. 


240 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


One of the four of the Protector’s buffoons managed to 
black the staid knight’s lip like a beard, whereat he drew 
his knife, missing very little of killing the little fellow.” 

Some other curious anecdotes are perfectly authen- 
ticative of this era, and are prominent in it. When 
Henry Martin was asked by Cromwell and others what 
they should do with Charles if the commissioners found 
him guilty, he instantly answered, “We will cut off his 
head, as we did his Scotch grandmother’s.” Nor is 
there doubt that when Hugh Peters urged the execu¬ 
tion of Charles from the pulpit, Cromwell suddenly burst 
into a horse-laugh, and continued his cachinations until 
his face was swollen, and the tears ran down his cheeks, 
to the dismay and scandal of everybody in the church. 
His friends apologized for him by stating that he was 
subject to nervous disorder and everything that grieved 
him took that unusual form of expression. 

While at dinner with his friends, and occupied with 
looking for a corkscrew to open a bottle of champagne, 
he told the servant who announced a deputation in wait¬ 
ing to consult him upon the means of finding grace, to 
go to the devil, that he was busy searching for the holy 
spirit, and would find it as soon as he laid hands on that 
corkscrew. 

HIS YOUNGEST DAUGHTER, LADY FRANCES, AND THE 

CHAPLAIN. 

Cromwell’s astuteness and stern rapidity of action in 
the affairs of Empire, was inevitable as in the minor 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 


241 


affairs of his life. As, for instance, in the curious inci¬ 
dents to which his youngest and most beautiful daugh¬ 
ter Frances was a party, and who had been set apart by 
the gossips of Europe for the Queen of Charles the 
Second, being thus destined, it was said, to serve as a 
bond of union between the decaying Commonwealth and 
the renewing loyalty of England. Charles the Second, 
the merry monarch of history, had found a rival, however, 
in Mr. Jeremy White, of whom it was said Cromwell, 
by appointing him a chaplain, secured the services of a 
good buffoon gratis. This son of the church, however, 
was so ambitious as to pay his addresses to the Lady 
Frances. The young lady did not discourage him; his 
looks are reported to have been highly in his favor, but 
this piece of innocent gallantry, in such a court, could 
not be carried on without spies. Oliver was told of it 
and was much concerned and disturbed by the informa¬ 
tion. He required the person who communicated the 
intrigue to be on the watch, and if he could give any 
substantial proof he should be well rewarded, and the 
Reverend Mr. White severely punished. The spy fol¬ 
lowed the chaplain so closely that he hunted Jerry 
White, as he was generally termed, without much cere¬ 
mony, to the Lady’s chamber, and ran immediately to 
her father with the news. In a rage the Lord Protector, 
whose expletives sometimes savored of papistic formulas, 
exclaimed, “ By the holy rood!” rushed into the apart¬ 
ment and found Jerry on his knees, kissing the lady’s 
hand with the utmost fervor. Cromwell furiously asked 
16 


242 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


the horror-stricken White what was the meaning of that 
posture before his daughter Frances. White, in spite 
of his terror, was able to summon his extraordinary 
address in telling a round lie to his assistance, and hum¬ 
bly answered, “ May it please your Highness, I have 
for a long time courted that young gentlewoman there, 
my Lady’s tire-woman, and cannot prevail; I was, there¬ 
fore, humbly praydng her Ladyship to intercede for me. 
The Protector, turning to the young woman, cried, 
“What is the meaning of this, hussy? Why do you 
refuse the honor Mr. White would do to you ?’’ “ He is 

my friend,” said the arch cajoler, “and I expect you 
should treat him as such.” My Lady’s woman, who 
desired no better luck, replied, “ If Mr. White really 
intends me that honor, I shall not be against him.” 
“ Sayest thou so, my lass?” cried Cromwell. “Call 
Goodwin ; this business shall be done presently and 
out of hand, before I go out of the room, by St. Paul.” 
Poor White had gone too far to recede. The sardonic 
eye of Cromwell was upon him. The other parson 
came, Jerry and my Lady’s woman were married in 
the presence of the Protector, who gave her five hun¬ 
dred pounds for her portion, and that, with the money 
she had saved before, made her involuntary husband 
easy in his circumstances, except in one thing, which 
was that he never loved his wife, nor she him, although 
they lived nearly fifty years together afterwards. It 
was said the splendid Lady Frances never could bear 
the wife of White after her marriage. To the woman’s 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


243 


husband she maintained the most freezing aversion. As 
it was, no harm came of this to the Lady. She married 
the heir to the Earl of Warwick, upon which occasion 
her sire and some of his trooping cronies got extremely 
fuddled. The burly groom laughed to scorn the legend 
of Jerry White. She ceased to regret the parson and 
detested the mention of his name. 


CROMWELL AND CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. 

The memoirs and dispatches of ambassadors during 
the Protectorate, are invested with an interest unusual 
to diplomatic transactions. Among them the interviews 
between Whitelock, the English ambassador (afterward 
one of Cromwell’s lords), and the young Queen of Swe¬ 
den are first in the importance of the objects aimed at, 
and the frequency with which public men and public 
affairs were discussed. Whitelock himself was no usual 
oddity. The eccentricities of Christina are matters of his¬ 
tory, for no such royal phenomenon had been called to a 
northern throne since the appearance of Peter the Great. 
She resembled, in many traits of character, Elizabeth of 
England ; both inherited great talents and heroic cour¬ 
age ; both were learned, plain spoken, and averse to 
marriage. Christina extended, however, a passionate 
encouragement to literature, and in her 27th year volun¬ 
tarily abdicated the throne. Elizabeth, on the other 
hand, extended no protection to men of genius, or to the 
cultivation of literature. If she destroyed the equanim- 




244 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


ity of a Lord Mayor by patting him on the head, she 
disdained to lift her finger to support Spenser or Shake¬ 
speare. On the subject of her crown no one dare 
mention even a successor in her presence. A fearful 
utterance would have been the word abdication, as 
applied to her dominion, for she seemed to think it 
ought to perish with her life. 

A better proof of courage in the young Queen of 
Sweden could not be presented than her acknowledg¬ 
ment of the English Republic. The other crowned heads 
of Europe pursued a vacillating, if not a timorous 
course. They dreaded the enmity of the English Par¬ 
liament, but, on the other hand, feared an alliance 
which might draw upon them the hostility of a counter¬ 
revolution in favor of the Stuarts. When Whitelock was 
presented to the Queen of Sweden, among other articles 
of apparel she wore a black velvet cap lined with' sable 
and turned up in front. Upon removing his hat in the 
royal presence, Christina also took this cap and holding 
it above her head for an instant, put it on again, exactly 
as men salute ladies of distinction on the street. After 
reading his credentials, Christina opened the negotia¬ 
tions frankly and fearlessly by observing, “Your Gen¬ 
eral is one of the gallantest men in the world. The 
Prince of Conde is next to him, but short of him. I 
have as great a respect and honor for your General as 
for any man alive, and I praj^ you let him know as 
much for me. I pray you tell me where did your Gen¬ 
eral and his officers learn this way of preaching and 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


245 


praying with their troops.” Whitelock, with equal 
dexterity and falsehood, answered that they had learned 
it from one of her dearest friends. “What,” said 
Christina, ‘‘do you mean? Who was that dearest 
friend ?” “ He was,” continued the envoy, “ the great 

Gustavus Vasa, who, upon his first landing in Ger¬ 
many, did, upon his knees, give thanks to God for his 
safe landing, and, before his soldiers, did himself pray 
to God for blessings upon his undertaking, and God 
testified his liking thereof by the wonderful successes 
He vouchsafed to that gallant King. The Queen, who 
was inclined to laugh at the grimaces and exclamations 
of the English sects, held her breath in admiration of 
the diabolic sagacity of the Puritan before her. Said 
she, ‘‘Have you heard in England that I was to marry 
the King of Scots ? I confess, if you have, there is some 
foundation for the rumor. Tetters have passed between 
us, but I assure you I shall not marry that young man. 
He lately sent the order of St. George to my cousin, the 
Prince Palatinate ; but the messenger had the wit to 
bring it to me first. I threw the letter in the fire and 
kept the George ; for I believe your General will be the 
King of England in conclusion.” “ Pardon me,” said 
Whitelock, ‘ ‘ that cannot be, because England is resolved 
into a commonwealth.” ‘‘Resolve what you will,” 
rejoined the Queen, “ I believe he resolves to be king. 
No power or greatness can be called sufficient when the 
nature of man is prone to ambition. Pray, how’ many 
wives have you had ?” ‘‘ Three, your Majesty.’’ ‘‘And 


24 6 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


how many children ?” “ Nearly thirty, your Majesty.” 

“ By God,” said the Queen, “ you are incorrigible. But 
since your General is made a Protector, why is your 
new government so .severe against Catholics? Methinks 
that you who stand so much for liberty should allow it 
to them, and not persecute them for conscience’ sake.” 
Of course Whitelock argued the point with all the com¬ 
monplaces that have been argued against Catholic 
emancipation since Plenry the Eighth. The sagacious 
old Chancellor, Oxenstiern, aware of his mistress’s 
enthusiasm for the changes in England, gave some 
home thrusts which were most dexterously evaded by 
the ambassador. Said the Swedish statesman, “ From 
whom is this power derived and given to the Protector, 
and who had the power to ordain it to be binding upon 
the people ? Yours, in fact, is an election of the sword, 
and such precedents in other countries have proved dan¬ 
gerous and not durable.” After a Court ball, during 
his residence at Stockholm, said the Queen, brusquely 
addressing Whitelock, “ Par Dieu, these Hollanders are 
lying fellows; they lately reported to me that all the 
noblesse of England were of the King’s party, and none 
but mechanics were Parliamentarians, not a gentleman 
among them. Now I have just tried you by making 
you dance with me. People who dance as well as your¬ 
self and your embassy must be gentlemen ; it is a great 
injury to belie a man’s dancing.” 

These scenes and dialogues disclose the more ster¬ 
ling as well as the charming and unaffected aspects of 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


247 


Christina’s character. She announced her purpose of 
retiring from the throne of Sweden, and promised 
Whitelock the command of one of her castles in the 
Elsinore. The treaty in hand was, however, concluded 
amid those gallantries, and revived an international 
commerce between Sweden and England, as well as a 
prohibition of favor and protection to the enemies of 
either nation. 

After being tempest-tossed and miraculously pre¬ 
served from destruction on the northern ocean, the 
ambassador and his suite reached the shores of merry 
England. Cromwell, delighted with his success, sent 
the Arctic heroine his portrait. He was painted in 
armor, slightly flattered in appearance, and represented 
with a double chain of gold hanging down his 
chest, with three crowns and a white pearl. These 
were the arms of Sweden. But the most endur¬ 
ing chronicle of these events was written by Milton. 
Accompanying the picture were some Latin lines which 
are said to stand at the head of all Latin compositions. 
Wonderful as were the gifts of George Buchanan, he 
has no single poem, so Latinists say, that matches them 
in versification and melody. As nothing yet mentioned 
could confer upon Christina the character of remarkable 
singularity, even in a royal personage, it is but fair to 
state a ground upon which unusual eccentricity has 
been imputed to her about this period. She wrote pri¬ 
vately a letter to Cromwell imagined in the most fan¬ 
tastical mood, and among declarations of imperishable 


248 OLIVER CROMWELL. 

admiration, avowed that although child-bearing and the 
cares of a family had always appeared insupportable to 
her, still, if their union were possible, she would wil¬ 
lingly forego her objections to marriage, since she 
thought that between them they would beget a race of 
Alexanders. As the parties to this proposal were sepa¬ 
rated by the German ocean, and as Cromwell was 
advancing to three-score and more, with a wife on his 
hands already, and grandchildren sitting on their knees, 
and as Christina was only twenty-six or twenty-seven 
years, and about to consign her kingdom to another 
ruler, “the bright star of the Arctic pole ” might, in this 
phase of her conduct, be considered obnoxious to the 
charge of eccentricitjq and Cromwell would have mer¬ 
ited the same imputation, if he had encouraged the 
Queen of Sweden in such unusual fancies. 


AN EXAMPLE OF CROMWELL’S DISCIPLINE. 

Cromwell had been absent from the army attending 
Parliament. On his return to the army he found a regi¬ 
ment of the most fervid debaters in the service, far 
advanced in investigations of the best form of govern¬ 
ment for the army, for the kingdom of England, for the 
church of the saints, of the quality of rations and bev¬ 
erages they preferred, as well as the degree of spiritual 
grace attained by the commander-in-chief. They testified 
some reluctance to resume the routine of duty on Crom¬ 
well’s return. Consequently, he laid hands on the ring- 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 


249 


leaders of these military philosophers, shot one of their 
tribunes with his own hand, disarmed the rest, and, to 
use their own terms, shut up “these pelicans in the 
wilderness, and the sparrows on the house-tops, to pro¬ 
claim the truths they had discovered.” 


A SPECIMEN OF CROMWELL’S BUFFOONERY. 

Ludlow, one of his Major-Generals, relates that con¬ 
ferences took place between the members of Parliament 
and the military leaders, to settle forms of government. 
At the end of a long discussion, in which every form 
of government, except that of a dictator or protector, 
had been advanced and controverted, Cromwell being 
addressed said that he still felt his opinions to be unre¬ 
solved, but in God’s mercy no doubt but the truest 
plan would be revealed. “ I asked him,” says Ludlow, 
“ if God had not already revealed one to him that met 
his views exactly ; whereupon he took up a cushion and 
flung it at my head, saying, ‘There’s a revelation for 
you,’ and I ran after him down-stairs with another cush¬ 
ion and belabored him as he went.” We may be sure 
that this was not idle buffoonery on Cromwell’s part. It 
is merely of a piece with his quickness and presence of 
mind in every dilemma. Ludlow had touched to the 
quick by his biting insinuation, and to hide his mount¬ 
ing color or change of voice from the eager eyes or ears 
around him, he resorted to this kind of horse-play to 
divert their scrutiny. Napoleon used to pinch his 




250 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


counselors’ ears to distract their attention ; Queen 
Elizabeth generally boxed the ears of an intrusive ques¬ 
tioner ; Paul of Russia blew smoke into the eyes and 
nostrils of his advisers and inquisitors ; Charles of Bur¬ 
gundy was in the habit of pulling off one of his boots 
and belaboring the head of an impertinent privy-coun¬ 
selor ; Eouis the Eighteenth had a habit of puffing and 
blowing to change the conversation when he was cross- 
questioned too closely; Catherine the Great had a 
playful manner of pinching and tickling Potemkin with 
her fan when he tried to prevent her from making a 
fool of herself; but of all similar examples this retreat 
of Cromwell under a fire of silk cushions, appears to be 
the most dexterous and masterly thing of the sort on 
record. 

CONSPIRACIES, INFORMERS AND SPIES. 

A great obstacle in the way of Cromwell’s assassina¬ 
tion was the want of money on the part of the conspira¬ 
tors. On the other hand, the Protector’s usual expendi¬ 
ture for secret information, espionage and unacknowl¬ 
edged emissaries exceeded ,£60,000 a year. For a 
single divulgement of foreign intelligence extracted, no 
doubt, surreptitiously from the Court of Spain, his 
secretary, Thurloe, declares that he paid ,£20,000 in 
coin. He kept his eye upon both the Royalists and 
the Republicans. In the houses of both he maintained 
his spies, who received gratuities from his purse in 
proportion to their influence and the trust reposed in 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 


251 


them by their employers. His superior means enabled 
him to corrupt over again the spies and assassins that 
Charles had already fed. The very agents whom the 
latter employed were generally the tools of Cromwell, 
and sometimes seduced his adherents into imaginary 
plots, which they revealed to increase the gains of their 
infamous trade. A man of this class was Major Hen- 
shaw. On the appearance of a murderous proclama¬ 
tion against the Protector’s life, he repaired to Paris in 
company with an enthusiastic young Royalist named 
Gerard. Here a conspiracy was organized, and, as it 
would appear, the two men, relying upon the extrava¬ 
gant promises of Charles, returned to England to execute 
it. The Lord Protector was to be murdered on the 
road as he was passing from Whitehall to Hampton 
Court. The Guard at the former place were to be 
suddenly disarmed, the town surprised, and Charles the 
Second proclaimed. A number of men were enlisted in 
this plot, and it was given in evidence that Cromwell 
received notice of the design but a few hours before it 
was to have been executed. He was only able to 
render it abortive by crossing the Thames at Putney, 
and thus avoiding the ambuscade. This statement, 
however, was false and only devised to conceal the 
treachery of Henshaw, who, having disclosed everything 
in time to the Council, suddenly vanished from the whole 
affair, and was said to have escaped. Thurloe, how¬ 
ever, informs us that he was provided with comfortable 
quarters in the Tower, and set out on his travels with a 


252 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


large reward as soon as the attempt had ceased to be 
the nine days’ wonder of London. The truth was that 
the chief conspirators were taken the night before the 
appointed day ; some of them, as Gerard, were dragged 
out of their beds to prison, and many others, on little or 
no pretence whatever, were seized in character of 
accomplices. In fact, the principal value of this con¬ 
spiracy to the government was the pretext it afforded 
for arresting several eminent persons, who without any 
overt act had lately rendered themselves obnoxious. A 
High Court of Justice was instantly erected by ordi¬ 
nance, and the three leading conspirators, Gerard, 
Vowel and Fox, were placed upon their trial. Fox 
pleaded guilty, in furtherance of a secret arrangement to 
corroborate in that way the secret evidence of Henshaw. 
Gerard and Vowel defended themselves unavailingly. 
A scaffold was erected, and Vowel died upon it with 
declarations that he was a martyr in the noble host 
which Charles the first had led. Gerard died after 
earnest protestations of the most fervent loyalty to the 
Stuarts. He also declared that the death of Cromwell 
was not to have been attempted. This declaration 
probably referred solely to his own intentions and 
instrumentality in the attack upon the Protector.' 

A still more memorable act of justice was performed 
on the same scaffold, which struck still deeper terror into 
the violators of the authority of England. Among the 
beneficial acts of statesmanship, to which his elevation 
made him heir, were the adjusted preliminaries of a 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


253 


treaty t between the Commonwealth and Portugal. 
These, however, during the recent changes of state 
authority had not yet been signed, though circum¬ 
stances had only increased the desire to have them 
ratified on the part of the Court at Lisbon. Meanwhile 
an extraordinary incident took place in which the 
Portuguese Embassy bore a prominent part. A sudden 
disturbance, as if by some strange fatality, arose in the 
Exchange, in the Strand, between Don Pantaleon, 
brother to the Portuguese ambassador, and this very 
Gerard, whose execution we have just witnessed. A 
personal encounter followed, but the combatants were 
separated. The next evening, however, Pantaleon 
repaired to the same place with a body of armed com¬ 
panions, and assaulted and killed a person totally uncon¬ 
nected with the dispute, whom he mistook for Gerard. 
His purpose being as he thought effected, he took 
refuge in the house of the ambassador, but this minister,, 
after having in vain pleaded his privilege as an envoy, 
was obliged to surrender the assassin and his accom¬ 
plices, who were at once committed to Newgate. Their 
trial followed a short time after Cromwell’s elevation to 
supreme authority. Unprecedented interest was made 
by foreign Courts on behalf of the Portuguese, and the 
excitement of the London populace was frantic against 
the accused. Throwing himself upon his rights as a 
member of the legation, and the protection of a distinct 
appointment to succeed his brother in office, which he 
produced, this unfortunate Don refused to plead to the 


254 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


jurisdiction of the English Government. He was con¬ 
sequently threatened with the horrible punishment of 
being put to death by the gradual imposition of weights 
upon the chest and abdomen. Having decided to plead 
for his life, he demanded counsel, and was answered 
that the Court before which he was arraigned was ‘ ‘ of 
counsel equal to the prisoner and the Commonwealth.” 
Pantaleon was condemned with four of his accomplices, 
and although three of the latter were pardoned, no 
threat or inducement could avail with Cromwell in 
favor of the chief offender. To demonstrate still more 
openly to Europe the fearlessness and power of England, 
it was so arranged that the morning of the day appointed 
for the execution of Pantaleon should be fixed for the 
final settlement of the Portuguese treaty. Within a few 
hours after the ambassador had signed that treaty, his 
brother’s head fell for the crime of murder from the 
public scaffold. 

After the execution of Gerard and Vowel, Cromwell 
took the precaution to publish to the world a history of 
the conspiracy, in which Charles Stuart is expressly 
described as a man stained with all the blood that had 
been shed on the island, and naturally a malefactor in 
all points of civil honor as well as in religion and morals. 
This retaliation was nothing more than the most humane 
laws would have claimed. The crime was aimed at the 
life of England’s chief magistrate, and matured upon its 
soil. The vengeance of Charles, however, fell about the 
same time upon one of his confidants, under far less war- 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


255 


rantable circumstances. During the maintenance on 
both sides of this hideous system of espionage, certain 
letters were opened at a continental postoffice and trans¬ 
mitted to the King. One was from a personal retainer 
and inmate of his circle, named Manning, to Thurloe, 
Cromwell’s secretary. Being questioned before Charles, 
Manning confessed that he received an ample mainte¬ 
nance from the Protectorate, but defended himself on the 
ground that he communicated nothing to it but what was 
false and delusive. It appeared from his dispatch, with 
which he was confronted, that the plea was a true one 
in the present instance, for it was filled with a detailed 
account of a fictitious debate in their Council, but even 
the falsehoods he had transmitted to England had caused 
the arrest and imprisonment of several Royalists in Eng¬ 
land. This piece of villainy towards his friends fur¬ 
nished one of the few instances of the King’s considera¬ 
tion for those who had been injured by their adherence 
to his cause ; consequently, after a great deal of man¬ 
agement, he procured the execution of Manning by 
being shot in a small German dukedom. 

In truth, the incalculable mischief a successful spy 
could effect, conferred a most precarious tenure of 
existence upon any one suspected to be such. If 
caught in flagrante delicto , Cromwell held it within his 
rights and conscience to put a hostile spy to death with 
his own hand. Upon one occasion he entered Thurloe’s 
office by a private ingress, which had been constructed 
to elude observation. Without examining the apart- 


256 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


ment, he plunged into a conversation about matters of 
the greatest importance and secrecy; but an instant 
afterwards, perceiving Sir Samuel Moreland, who was 
in reality fast asleep, he drew a large double-edged 
poniard, which he always carried on his person, and 
was about to dispatch Moreland as an eavesdropper on 
the spot. The secretary, horrified, sprang between the 
sleeper and the Protector, checking the latter with 
impetuous assurances that Moreland had been kept up 
two nights in succession and was undoubtedly in a deep 
sleep. The conversation is not stated b}^ Moreland, but 
it has been supposed to refer to a project of marrying the 
Protector’s most attractive daughter to the Pretender, as 
Charles Stuart was called in Republican quarters, and 
then restoring him to the throne. Such a scheme pre¬ 
maturely divulged would, of course, expose Cromwell 
to the utmost jeopardy from Puritans in civil life, and 
especially from the army which rebelled against the idea 
of a crown being worn in England by even the Protector 
himself. The King himself, when sounded as to his 
inclinations, had signified his assent to the match with 
avidity. Neither did the Queen Dowager of England 
evince any inveterate repugnance to the proposal, except 
by a shrug of the shoulder and her usual synopsis of the 
perplexities of her perplexed life. 


DISPERSION OF THE LONG PARLIAMENT. 


Perhaps the most daring and flagitious act in the 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 


257 


career of this wonderful being, was the dispersion of the 
Long Parliament. The means he adopted to accom¬ 
plish this atrocious purpose were simple enough. He 
was what was styled Captain-General at the time, and 
had full command of the army, which was devoted to 
him, but had no more constitutional authority than any 
other member of Parliament. He planted a body of 
soldiers at the door of the House of Commons, and sta¬ 
tioned another in the lobby, and led some files of mus¬ 
keteers to a position without the chamber where the 
members sat. His manner at this momentous instant 
was observed to be calm, and his dress was noted for its 
contrast to his purposes. Vane had risen and was 
speaking in a passionate strain, when he quietly entered 
the Hall, clad in plain black clothes, with gray hose, 
unattended and alone. About a hundred members 
were, at this time, present. He stood for a moment at 
the spot where he entered and then sat down in the first 
vacant place. Here he was instantly joined by his 
kinsman, St. John, to whom he said, with the most per¬ 
fect air of humility, that he had come to do that which 
grieved him to the very soul, and that which he had 
earnestly, with tears, prayed to God against; nay, that 
he would rather be torn to pieces than do it; but there 
was a necessity laid upon him therein in order to effect 
the glory of God and the good of the nation. St. John 
said he verily knew not what he meant, but did pray 
that whatever it was, it might have a happy issue for 
the general good. Vane was still on his feet, urging 


17 


25S 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


with increased earnestness the necessity of proceeding 
at once to the last stage of the bill for a new Parlia¬ 
ment. He even adjured them to dispense with the 
ceremony of engrossing and other immaterial forms. 
At this suggestion Cromwell beckoned to Harrison, one 
of his Major-Generals. “ Now is the time,” said he, 
“ I must do it.” “ Consider, sir,” said Harrison, “the 
work is very great and dangerous.” “ You say well,” 
replied Cromwell, “ I’ll wait awhile.” He sat still a 
quarter of an hour. It appears that Vane had suc¬ 
ceeded in causing a division in favor of the proposition, 
for the speaker had actually risen to put the question, 
when Cromwell started up, took off his hat and began 
to speak. At first, Lord Leicester says, he spoke in 
commendation of Parliament for their watchfulness over 
the public welfare, but, suddenly changing his tone and 
style of delivery, reproached them with their unjust 
delays, of self-interest and other faults, charging them 
with not having a heart to do anything for the public 
good, and accusing them of an intention of perpetuat¬ 
ing themselves in power, had they not been forced to 
pass this act which, he affirmed, they desired to violate, 
and observe in no manner. “ But,” he exclaimed with 
harsh and violent abruptness, “Your time is come! 
The Lord has done with you. He has chosen more 
worthy instruments for carrying on His work.” All 
this must have seemed nothing less than inspiration 
to his followers, for they marked the extraordinary 
changes in his voice and manner, as if new gifts had 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


259 


descended upon him, and exclaimed aloud “ that it was 
the Lord who had taken him by the hand and set him 
to do that thing.” He spoke, says Ludlow, with so 
much passion and discomposure of mind as if he had 
been distracted. Meanwhile, Vane had risen ; Went¬ 
worth and Martin strove to obtain the floor, but he suf¬ 
fered none to be heat'd except himself. Evidently aware 
of the unprecedented conduct he exhibited, he cried 
out to those who had risen, “You think, perhaps, that 
this is not parliamentary language ! ” In spite of resist¬ 
ance, however, the voice of Sir Peter Wentworth forced 
itself at last upon the House. He declared that this 
was indeed the first time he had heard such unbecom¬ 
ing language used before the House, and that it was the 
more horrid inasmuch as it proceeded from their sworn 
servant—from that servant whom they had so highly 
trusted and obliged, and by unprecedented bounty 
made what he was! Whether these words really 
transported Cromwell at the instant beyond every bound 
of self-command, or merely rendered necessary a further 
display of such fervor as would stimulate his followers, 
the testimony of what follows can best explain. The 
eye-witness, Lord Leicester, proceeds : “ Cromwell 

instantly thrust his hat firmly down upon his head, 
sprang from his place into the centre of the floor and 
shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Come, come; I’ll put 
an end to your prating.’” “Then,” says Algernon 
Sidney, “ he walked up and down the floor in the midst 
of the House, with his hat on his head, and berated the 


260 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


members, sometimes pointing particularly to individual 
persons, as Sir Benjamin Whitelocke and Sir Henry 
Vane, to both of whom he evidently directed his vitu¬ 
perations, although without naming them. But even 
while he chafed in this violent manner, walking up and 
down, stamping upon the ground, and uttering objurga¬ 
tions, Vane succeeded once more in making himself 
heard. At this Cromwell stopped and loudly addressed 
Vane by his name : ‘You,’ said he, ‘ might have pre¬ 
vented this extraordinary course; you are a juggler 
and have not so much as common honesty. I have 
been forced to this. I have sought the Lord night and 
day, that he would rather stay me than exact the execu¬ 
tion of this deed ; but now begone, one and all. You 
are no Parliament. I say, you are no Parliament! I 
put an end to your sitting. Begone ! Give way to 
honester men.’ Stamping his foot, as he uttered these 
words, with amazing force upon the floor, the door was 
suddenly flung open and he stood in the midst of five or 
six files of musketeers with their arms ready. 

“ It is needless to say that resistance to any success¬ 
ful end was idle. Then pointing to the Speaker, who 
sat aghast in his chair, he turned to Harrison and said, 

‘ Fetch him down.’ Harrison went to the Speaker and 
spoke to him, but he sat still and said nothing. ‘ Take 
him down !’ vociferated Cromwell. Harrison pulled 
the Speaker’s gown, who instantly left his seat.” 

It happened that Algernon Sidney sat next to the 
Speaker’s chair. Cromwell said to Harrison, ‘‘Put him 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


261 


out.” Harrison told Sidney to go out. He refused to 
do so. “Put him out!” again screamed the General. 
Then Harrison and Worsley (who commanded Crom¬ 
well’s foot-guards) put their hands upon Sidney’s shoul¬ 
der as if to eject him. He then rose and went to the 
door. Cromwell advanced to the table where the mace 
was deposited after being borne before the Speaker, and 
said, “ Take away that bauble .” So the soldiers took 
away the mace. Whilst this unheard-of scene was pro¬ 
ceeding the majority of the members had gradually 
withdrawn; and now, as the more eminent men, who 
had waited to the last, moved slowly toward the door, 
through files of musketeers drawn up on either side, 
they received the last insults from the person who had 
at last overreached them all. “ Thou art a drunkard,” 
said he to Challmer; to Sir Peter Wentworth, “Thou 
art an adulterer;” to Alderman Allen, “ Thou art an 
extortioner ;” and to his old friend, Henry Martin, 
“Thou art a wlioremaster.” Among the latest of all 
Vane came out, and, as he came, protested in a loud 
voice against the fatal scene which had taken place. 
“This is not honest,” said he; “ yea, it is against 
morality and common decency.” Cromwell looked at 
him as if to recollect some personal vice to fling at his 
former rival, but he only exclaimed in a harsh, troubled 
tone, “Sir Henry Vane, Sir Henry Vane, the Lord 
deliver me from Sir Henry Vane.” Vane passed on; 
his eminently blameless life could furnish no oppro¬ 
brious epithet. 


202 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


He afterwards dispersed two Parliaments called by 
himself, with means equally violent and unconstitu¬ 
tional, although one of them had made him Lord Pro¬ 
tector of the Commonwealth, and the other offered him 
the name and royalty of king ; and he set the final 
stamp of infamy on his career when he assumed to rule 
by the absolute power of a dictator, backed up by the 
military force of an army devoted to his interests and 
his person. 

THE TROOPER AND THE SADDLE. 

At one time, it is said, there was an attempt to make 
up matters with the King. The story is related by 
Cromwell himself, and runs as follows : 

“ While we were busied with these intentions, there 
came a letter from one of our spies, who was of the 
King’s bed-chamber, which acquainted us that on that 
day our doom was decreed ; that he could not positively 
tell what it was, but we could find it out if we could 
intercept a letter from the King to the Queen, wherein 
he declared what he would do. The letter was sewed 
up, he said, in the skirt of a saddle, and the bearer of it 
would come with the saddle on his head, about ten 
o’clock that night, to the Blue Bear in Holborn ; for 
there he was to take horse and go to Dover with it. 
This messenger knew nothing of the letter in the sad¬ 
dle, but some persons in Dover did. We were at Wind¬ 
sor when we received this letter ; and immediately upon 
the receipt of it, Ireton and I resolved to take one trusty 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 


263 


fellow with us, and, dressed in common troopers’ habits, 
to go to the Inn in Holborn. This we accordingly did, 
entered the room and called for cans of beer as troopers 
do. At ten our man gave notice that a man had arrived 
with a saddle. We immediately sallied out and stopped 
the man, as he led out his horse, with our swords drawn. 
We told him our duty was to search all who passed in 
or out; but, as he looked like an honest man, we would 
only search his saddle. We took it to a private place, 
ripped it open and found a letter to the Queen in France. 
Having restored the saddle, the man posted on to Dover 
without his missive, of which, in fact, he knew nothing. 
The King stated that he had offers, both from the Scots 
and the Parliament, and whichever offered the best bar¬ 
gain he would close with without difficulty, but that 
he preferred the Scots, and that most likely Cromwell 
would receive, instead of a silken garter, a hempen cord. 

“From that time we felt,’’ says Cromwell, “that 
there was no good faith in the King, and we resolved 
on his ruin in self-defense. That word,’’ added he, 
“ ‘Put not your faith in princes,’ is wise enough to be 
found in the Bible.’’ _ 

THE ANABAPTIST PREACHERS. 

About the time he assumed the Protectorate, two 
Anabaptist preachers, Peck and Powell, seized the occa¬ 
sion for inveighing against the Cromwellian policy. 
“ God,’’ they maintained, “ had given Holland into the 
hands of the English. It was to be the abiding place 




264 OLIVER CROMWELL. 

of the saints, whence they should pluck the whore of 
Babylon from her chair and establish the Kingdom of 
Christ and the covenant; hence, they threatened every 
man with temporal and eternal damnation who should 
advise peace on an}^ other terms than the incorporation 
of the united provinces with the Commonwealth of 
England.” Since they suspected that Cromwell had 
receded from this demand, they stripped the Pope, as 
Dr. Kingard observes, of many of those titles with which 
the Protestants had long honored him, and the Lord 
Protector was publicly declared to be the beast of the 
Apocalypse, the dragon, and the man of sin. Among 
their special denunciations they called him by name 
a perjured villain, and desired that, if any of his friends 
were present, they would repair to his presence and tell 
him, in their name, that his time would be short, and his 
end more tragical than that of the great tyrant, the last 
Lord Protector of England. But the time had arrived 
when Messrs. Peck and Powell were brought before 
the man they had likened to the beast in Revelation. 
He informed them that he had received their message 
and believed that they meant well, but that they had 
not sufficiently studied the Scriptures, especially they 
appeared to misconceive the writings of St. John the 
Divine ; he, therefore, would recommend them to pursue 
their studies in the Tower, for which he furnished them 
a pass and an officer to attend them thither. 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


265 




KING OR PROTECTOR. 


After the dissolution of the Long Parliament, three 
others were assembled during Cromwell’s administra¬ 
tion. The form of the government had been discussed 
in each Parliament, and it appeared that some were for 
a mixed monarchy and others for a pure republic. 
Fleetwood, his son-in-law, and Desborough, his brother- 
in-law, and the army were for the latter. Sir Thomas 
Widdrington, Lord Chief Justice, Sir John Lenthal, 
Speaker, and Whitelocke were for monarchy, but Crom¬ 
well put off the question from time to time in order to 
prosecute the ends of his own ambition. The Protector’s 
third Parliament had been in session but a few months. 
Sir Thomas Widdrington was chosen for their Speaker, 
and a bill was prepared to invest the Protector with the 
title of King. It is supposed by some historians that a 
mysterious intrigue against Cromwell’s life had been 
discovered by Thurloe’s spies and machinations. As 
soon as its detection was announced a casual reference 
to the policy of re-establishing “ Kingship , ” followed in 
the House of Commons. It was also followed by a more 
deliberate and explicit inquiry into the best measures 
for protecting his Highness’s person against these mur¬ 
derous attempts. “ It would, in my opinion,” said the 
Speaker, ‘ ‘ tend very much to the preservation of him¬ 
self and us, and to the quieting of all designs of his 
enemies, if his Highness would be pleased to take upon 
himself the government according to the ancient consti- 



266 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


tution.” During these casual expressions in Parlia¬ 
ment, an address of congratulation was presented to 
Cromwell on his escape from assassination, and in return 
he gave a princely entertainment to the members of 
Parliament at Whitehall. The ball w T as now fairly set 
in motion, and it seemed to roll on without an effort. 
Sir Christopher Pack, who had been the Lord Mayor 
of London, called attention to the unsettled state of the 
nation, and suggested as the best remedy that the Lord 
Protector should be desired to assume the title of King, 
as the best known and most agreeable kind of govern¬ 
ment to the people of England. So extraordinary was 
the sensation when the w r ord ‘ ‘ King ’ ’ was pronounced at 
last, that members sprang electrically from their seats 
and crowded to the bar. ‘ ‘ Pack ’ ’ was violently crushed 
against it and thrown down. But on the restoration of 
order he proposed a bill held in his hand, and after a 
division it was carried by nearly three to one in a full 
House of two hundred members present. Lambert, a 
prominent Republican, natural^ resisted the tide of 
Parliament. Indeed, it was asserted that Cromwell had 
promised him the reversion of the Protectorate. The 
fact, however, shows that the Council was not consulted 
at all times when deep and momentous designs took 
form in the Protector’s will. 

About one hundred officers, not of the very highest 
rank, however, w r aited upon the Protector to entreat him 
not to listen to the sort of government proposed, urging 
that it w r ould be hazardous to his person, distasteful to 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


267 


the army, and calculated to pave the way for the restora¬ 
tion of the Stuart dynasty. But they had bearded the 
lion in his den ; he turned fiercely upon them, and none 
were able to gainsay his declarations about Kingship. 
“A short time ago none of you,” he said, ‘‘haggled 
about the word King ; why you startle at it now is 
more than I know.” He accused them of ingratitude. 
‘‘Go to,” he exclaimed, ‘‘and think this matter over 
with more concern.” This harangue, which was in 
old style of dealing with his former brethren in arms, 
succeeded. They knew that this was no time for non¬ 
sense with Cromwell, and in conclusion it was settled 
that the title under which he should hold executive 
authority should be postponed until the last; the Pro¬ 
tector should name his successor and be enabled to 
create a House of Lords. In all respects this most 
momentous proceeding, for it was no less than the 
change of a dynasty, and a settlement of the succession, 
was liberal, natural, and in accordance with English 
opinion and customs, excepting the exclusion of Papists 
and prelatists from the right of worship after their own 
forms. All had now received the sanction of Parliament 
by double the negatives. They immediately took it to 
Cromwell in a body, and to their amazement were 
received with doubts, uncertainties, and the most delicate 
scruples. He asked time to seek council of God and 
his own heart, lest his answer should be dictated by 
carnal motives, and not by those momentous considera¬ 
tions which should influence him on such an occasion. 


268 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


At the end of three days they again presented themselves; 
after a long explanation on his -part he required to be 
informed a little more particularly about the working in 
Parliament than was set forth by its rules. This, of 
course, was a mere ruse, and was so viewed by the one 
hundred members who voted for the title of King. They 
constituted an immense mass of talent and influence, 
and were all in favor of the government being exercised 
as of royal authority, both nominally and ceremonially. 
Their discussions went over the very ground that in old 
times Cromwell had traversed with hostility. He, in 
this discussion with the members, started the objections 
to which answers can be most easily and triumphantly 
found. For instance, he said it was true that the 
Scriptures sanction the authority and dignity of a King, 
but to the testimony of Scripture might be opposed the 
visible hand of God, who in the late contest had eradi¬ 
cated Kingship. It was gravely replied that Protector 
was a new, and King an ancient title. The first had no 
definite meaning; the latter was interwoven with all the 
laws and institutions. The abolition of royalty did not 
at first enter into the contemplation of Parliament. The 
objection was only to the person, not the office. Some, 
indeed, pretended that King and Chief Magistrate were 
synonymous, but none had ventured to substitute one 
word for the other in the Scriptures, where so many 
covenants, promises and precepts are annexed to the 
title of King. Cromwell promised to give his atten¬ 
tion to these arguments ; to his confidential friends 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


269 


it was whispered that he expressed himself satisfied. 

To make the most of this bitter farce and to enlighten 
public ignorance, he ordered a report of these confer¬ 
ences to be published. 

About this time an English squadron captured a 
Spanish fleet, eight days out from America, and sent 
home a galleon laden with ingots and other treasures. 
The Protector’s friends raised the amount to two millions 
sterling, and the clergy hailed the sparkling capture as 
a renewed testimony of God’s presence, and a witness 
of his acceptance of the engagement of our forces against 
Spain, the Pope, Priestcraft, the Gates of Hell, and the 
Book of Common Prayer. But other suggestions still 
more grateful to Cromwell were made in reference to 
this plunder. 

“ Returns victorious Montague, 

With laurels in his hand and half Peru. 

Let the brave Generals divide that bough, 

Our great Protector hath such wreaths enow. 

His conquering head hath no more room for bays, 

Then let it be as the glad nation prays. 

Let the rich ore be forthwith melted down, 

And the state fixed, by making him a crown. 

With ermine clad, and purple, let him hold 
A regal sceptre made of Spanish gold.” 

For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he did not dare 
to seize the object within his reach. The resolute with¬ 
drawal of Lambert was no source of surprise, but the 
continued aversion of Fleetwood and Desborough held 
him at bay. He employed the interval with many of 


270 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


these recusant officers, in all his profoundest fits of 
laughter, of serious argument, of obscure intimidation, 
and of his own inimitable cajolery. He mixed in these 
various efforts casual but powerful argument from an¬ 
other extensive conspiracy against his life and authority 
that had just been detected. Whitelocke relates the 
style of these curious seances in a passage in his 
memorials. “ The Protector,” he says, “often advised 
about this business with men of high influence, such as 
Lord Brogill and Pierrepont. At such times he not 
only was cheerful, but familiarly convivial, making 
verses with us, relating anecdotes, and bandying witti¬ 
cisms. He commonly called for tobacco, pipes, and a 
candle, and now and then would take tobacco himself. 
His wines were of the most wonderful quality; some of 
them had been in the cellars of Queen Elizabeth.” He 
carried this social intrigue so far that he invited himself 
to dine with Desborough, taking Lieutenant-General 
Fleetwood with him. He became jocular after dinner 
and said the title of King was but a feather in a man’s 
cap, and, therefore, it was wonderful that men would not 
please the children and permit them to enjoy the rattle. 
But they assured him that there was more in the matter 
than pleasing children ; it contained the elements that 
would rouse the army to fury, and those who encour¬ 
aged him were no enemies to Charles Stuart, and if he 
accepted the title he would infallibly draw down ruin 
upon his head. He left them at an early hour, saying, 
“Well, well, you are two queer, scrupulous fellows. 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


271 


You should have lived in the reign of the Triumvirs.” 
' The next day he sent a message to the House to require 
the attendance of the members in the Painted Room, 
in order, as all men supposed, there to declare his 
acceptance of the crown of England. 

As he walked in the Park, no doubt a prey to desire, 
and filled with dread of the future, and wrapt in the 
mysterious fate of the hour, he again met Desborough. 
“ I give up your cause,” said the latter; “I cannot act 
against you, but for you, never—farewell . 1 ’ Colonel, now 
Sir William, Pride, hearing of this interview, immediately 
set on foot a petition against the Protector’s meditated 
step. But in the meantime, hearing of the violent dis¬ 
satisfaction of Lambert and his partisans, instead of 
meeting the House according to appointment, the Pro¬ 
tector sent a request that a committee might be selected 
to meet him on very important business. The object of 
course was purely to gain time and effect some diversion 
in his own favor. As it happened, the House had risen, 
but a standing committee waited upon him at Whitehall; 
he kept them waiting for two hours; he was unable to 
pursue any fixed course; he hesitated to take a step in 
any direction. Whilst they were waiting, a charger 
imported from Barbary was brought into the palace 
garden for his inspection. Seizing upon this incident as 
an excuse, he passed through the room in which the com¬ 
mittee waited. ‘‘As he was passing by without taking 
the least notice of them,” says Ludlow, ‘‘one of the 
number addressed him, saying that they had waited very 


272 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


long for his Highness’s pleasure. ’ ’ Of course the Pro¬ 
tector was not likely to be embarrassed by an occurrence 
of this nature. He coolly declared with many regrets 
that he had been informed that the House adjourned 
before his message got there, but that he would see 
them another time. 

Beneath all this there lay, no doubt, a volcano of 
stifled ambition—a sea of fearful incertitude ; the glit¬ 
tering prize was within his reach and he withheld his 
clutch. It was as if the golden symbol of royal author¬ 
ity had been wrought and reposed on a cushion, from 
which he dreaded to lift it to his head. He lost the 
opportunity of doing so by this delay. Pride, whom he 
had knighted, had not been idle. It was announced 
that certain officers of the army attended with a petition 
to Parliament. The House voted their admission to the 
bar, and it was presented. The Cromwellian interest 
were persuaded that it was a petition in favor of their 
desires. To their astonishment and horror, it set forth 
that the petitioners had hazarded their lives against 
monarchy and were ready to do so forever ; that they 
trusted the House would not bring back the old servi¬ 
tude by pressing their General to take upon him the 
title of King ; that they humbly trusted the House 
would defend the good old cause, for which they were 
ready to lay down their lives. • Cromwell now abandoned 
his aspirations ; the current had been turned against 
him, when, for the first time in his life, he hesitated 
after his determination was fixed. He also did, for the 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


273 


first time in his life, as others willed ; he acted against 
his own will exactly, concisely, distinctly, and memora¬ 
bly, and he acted irrevocably against himself. 

No answer was proposed to the petition, until the 
Protector’s answer to the last proposition of the Parlia¬ 
ment was received. He assembled them in the banquet¬ 
ing room at Whitehall, and after a speech, of which 
every sentence seemed to suffocate him, he concluded : 
“I am persuaded to return this answer to you, that I 
cannot undertake the government with the title of King, 
and this is my last determination in this vast and weighty 
business.” All that remained to do was to pass the 
frame of government essentially monarchial in every fibre, 
without the title of King. The ceremony of installation, 
which was, indeed, equivalent to a coronation, except¬ 
ing the imposition of a diadem, was grand and solemn. 
No sumptuous accessories were omitted. The inaugura¬ 
tion took place in Westminster Hall. The Speaker 
of Parliament, in the name of the realm, invested him 
with purple and ermine, placed in his hand a massive 
sceptre of gold, and girt him with the sword of state. 
The oath was administered, and prayers offered up. 
The trumpets clanged, and heralds proclaimed the style 
and title of the new Sovereign. Then the spectators 
shouted until the Abbey vaults reverberated for the first 
time a paean strange to English ears—“God save the 
Protector.” 


18 


274 


OLIVER CROMWELL. 


HIS LAST DAYS AND DEATH. 


New conspiracies were continually breaking out. 
His life was constantly aimed at. As if apprehensive of 
an attack upon his palace, he selected from different 
regiments of cavalry one hundred and sixty picked men, 
and gave them the pay and emoluments of officers. 
Twenty of them in rotation were constantly around his 
person, and filled the ante-roonr where he slept. He 
wore a steel shirt under his clothes, and carried pistols 
in his pockets. When it was necessary to give an audi¬ 
ence, he sternly watched the looks and gestures of those 
who addressed him. His carriage was filled with attend¬ 
ants, and he always proceeded at full speed. He 
constantly changed his bedchamber, and they were pro¬ 
vided with several egresses by which he might escape if 
invaded. This, alas ! was the Cromwell who, single- 
handed, turned the tide of battle on Marston Moor, and 
who rode down the stalwart Highlanders at Worcester 
Heights. 

Soon his favorite daughter, Elizabeth, sickened, faded 
away and died. Worn out with long attendance and 
anxiety, he contracted a tertian ague ; it was succeeded 
by a fever; his faculties began to abandon him. His 
time was passed in exclamations, for he hardly compre¬ 
hended the passages his chaplain read to him. In a 
stupor he muttered, “ The scripture did once save my 
life when my eldest—son died- -that was a dagger 
to my heart—indeed it was.” Reviving, he asked, 



OLIVER CROMWELL. 


275 


“ Is it possible to fall from grace ?” His chaplain said 
it was impossible. “ Then,” exclaimed the dying man, 
“ I am safe ; for I know once I was in grace.” He fell 
again into a stupor and half-murmured these words, 
“God is good—indeed He is—He will not—” (prob¬ 
ably, “ leave me ”). 

He became restless, and constantly spoke to himself. 
An attendant offered some tizan to drink. “ None of 
it,’ ’ said he, “it is not my design to drink or to sleep, 
but my design is to make what haste I can to be 
gone.” This was the 2d of September, his fortunate 
day, and the anniversary of several of his greatest vic¬ 
tories. The great storm arose in the morning that 
devastated the eastern coasts of England and filled the 
streets of its cities with subverted edifices, spires and 
enclosures. He became utterly insensible at daylight, 
and at four o’clock his chaplain observed that his heavy 
breathing had ceased, and a great spirit had left the 
earth for its inscrutable destination. All wept and 
groaned aloud. “ Cease to weep,” said Bishop Sterry ; 
“you have more reason to rejoice. He was your Pro¬ 
tector here ; he will prove a more powerful Protector, 
now he is with Christ, on the right hand of God the 
Father.” 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


Immediately after the Universal Exposition at the 
Crystal Palace, Eondon, in 1851, a movement com¬ 
menced in Europe for the improvement of manufactured 
articles, and for the better training and education of the 
classes engaged in the industrial pursuits. It was 
observed that art was the most powerful machine in 
skilled labor, and that it was also necessary to develop 
the special teaching of such sciences as were applied in 
the various branches of useful art. Great Britain was 
sensibly affected by the inferiority of her productions in 
matters of taste, design, form and color, at the Crystal 
Palace Exposition. But, with her habitual energy 
and immense resources, she organized that magnificent 
museum at South Kensington, in which there has grad¬ 
ually been accumulated the most beautiful models of 
industrial art, and the finest examples of art-workman¬ 
ship, gathered from all the regions of the earth, in every 
material, and in every style and of every period. Here 
the engineer, the artist and the artisan could borrow his 
models and gather his lessons. The government also 
constituted art and science departments, and covered 



INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


277 


the land with schools of drawing and design, with even¬ 
ing classes for those who could not attend the day 
schools. It also located museums in different parts of 
the kingdom, containing masterpieces of industrial art ; 
and even the Queen, and the nobility and gentry stripped 
their galleries and collections in order to enrich them 
with the most beautiful specimens of porcelain, of bronze, 
and of sculpture. School boards were authorized to 
establish and conduct art and science schools for arti¬ 
sans, and more recently the experiment of introducing 
manual training into elementary schools has been suc¬ 
cessfully effected in some of the manufacturing centres, 
like Manchester, Sheffield and Glasgow. By the estab¬ 
lishment of these schools and many more like them, the 
British people have removed the reproach that they 
were deficient in matters of art, and they are now able to 
hold their own and to enter into successful competition 
with all other nations. 

Technical schools exist in all the cities and large 
towns upon the continent. The higher technological 
institutions teach the practical application of science 
and the art of drawing, modeling and designing. 
The pupils become thoroughly conversant with all 
that can be said of the growth and formation, con¬ 
struction and strength, and the history and various 
uses of the materials with which they have to deal. 
They are made acquainted with mechanic art, and 
with the most recent mechanical appliances. They can 
draw and model accurately whatever is to be made or 


27S 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


designed, whether it is a machine or a vase, the pat¬ 
tern of a print or the shaft of a steam-engine ; and 
when they graduate they become managing engineers 
of mines, of railroads, manufacturing or commercial 
establishments, according to the special training they 
have received. 

Inferior to the technological institutions, there is a 
large class of schools in Germany, Austria, Switzerland 
and Russia, in which the studies are directed toward 
the education of artisans and the requirements of com¬ 
mercial and manufacturing industry. The subjects of 
study are writing, mathematics, drawing and elementary 
science, and to most of them are attached laboratories 
for teaching chemistry, and workshops for manual train¬ 
ing. The general lessons in science and design are 
immediately applied to the actual work of the shop. 
There are, generally, primary and elementary schools, 
and they are fully equipped with models, apparatus and 
specimens for teaching the technicalities of the trades 
which form the industries of the districts in which the 
schools are situated. The teaching is, generally, quite 
free. As examples, it may be stated that in Paris most 
of the elementary schools supported by the state are 
fitted with workshops, and some of them very elabo¬ 
rately, for the teaching of trades, while in a country 
no larger than Sweden and Norway, a very thorough 
course of manual training is given in over six hundred 
of their schools. During the month of October last 
(1889) an International Congress, with a view of giving 


INDUSTRIAL, EDUCATION. 


279 


additional impetus to the subject of technical instruction 
in all its grades, was held at Bordeaux. Perhaps the 
best examples of the higher grade of technological 
schools are those of France. In many of them manual 
work has been introduced, combining a training in 
theory and practice, to meet the ever increasing demand 
for those who can practice as well as design. In the 
Ecole des Arts et Metiers , for instance, the pupils study 
six hours, and spend six hours and a half in the work¬ 
shops. The plant contains machinery, engines, forges, 
fitting shops and foundries. 

The elementary schools are specially adapted to give 
a sound, practical training to those who are to enter 
industrial or commercial life at a comparatively early 
age. Drawing, designing, modeling, are universally 
taught throughout the entire period of instruction. 
Drawing is regarded as the basis of all constructive art. 
The pupils have practical work in the shop. It is fur¬ 
nished with benches, lathes, tools and engines, and com¬ 
petent instructors are in charge of each shop. In some 
cases the boys spend two or three hours a week, and in 
others two or three hours each day, at actual work. 
Every stroke is a lesson, and every blow of the hammer 
an instructive exercise. 

Besides these the government sustains schools for 
the instruction of artisans for a particular trade, such 
as watch-making and porcelain decoration. There are, 
also, weaving, dyeing and industrial art schools, draw¬ 
ing and designing schools, decorative art schools and 


280 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


apprenticeship schools, to fit boys to be good artisans by 
teaching them the use of tools and machines. All 
these are maintained either by the government or by the 
municipalities where the}' are situated. 

In order to encourage and push forward young men 
in the trades which depend upon art and skill, syndi¬ 
cates are organized in the larger cities under the law of 
France, composed of manufacturers and employers, and 
sometimes of the workmen, also. These associations 
have founded a great many technical schools, where as 
much attention is paid to manual as to mental train¬ 
ing. They are generally supported by the funds of the 
society, and many of them receive aid from the state. 
Their instruction is very thorough in a great variety of 
the art industries. One of the striking examples of such a 
school is that supported by the gold and silver smiths 
of Paris. There a pupil composes a design in the school 
and executes it in a workshop, or he constructs a model 
and the teacher explains its qualities and defects, and 
discourses upon the subject of style, color and orna¬ 
ment. 

The manufacturers and workmen in the carriage and 
coach making business, in and about Paris, have also 
formed an association under the same law, for arranging 
the hours of work, the rate of wages, and Boards of 
Arbitration to judge of and decide the differences which 
may arise in the connected trades ; for there are not less 
than forty or fifty specialties in the carriage business, 
such as wheelwrights for the running parts, carpenters 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


281 


for the box and frame work, blacksmiths, filers, paint¬ 
ers, veneerers, wood carvers, saddlers, upholsterers, lan¬ 
tern makers, lace makers, trimmers, and ornamenters 
from many other branches of skilled labor. The asso¬ 
ciation has founded courses of instruction into which 
are received pupils for all these pursuits. Drawing, 
geometry, mathematics and other branches are taught. 
They have a library, a course of historical lectures, and 
two professors. They create models of lightness, beauty 
and elegance. The employers are deeply interested in 
the teaching of the workers, who study in the school 
and work in the shop alternately every day. 

Nearly all the youth employed in the celebrated 
Gobelin tapestry works commence in an apartment 
near the great school of decorative art, which is 
attached to the establishment. The studies all have 
relation to the works carried on in the shops, and the 
pupils pass the afternoons in working out applications 
of their school lessons. The unrivalled perfection of 
the far famed Gobelin tapestry is traced . to this 
vigorous course of practical and theoretical instruction. 

But the limits of a paper will not allow me to detain 
you with further proofs of industrial education in 
France, for it would be as difficult to convey a just con¬ 
ception of the number and variety of their schools by 
their simple recital, as to delineate by mere words the 
grandeur and power of their industrial arts. Why do 
we go to Paris to visit its museums, its galleries, its 
shops and its schools ? Because they are an open and 


282 


INDUSTRIAL, EDUCATION. 


permanent exposition of the finest work created by 
human skill and taste. They render to the industries 
of other lands the double service of the most attractive 
fabrics, and the means of teaching us how to excel in 
the productions which have made her the centre of taste 
and wealth, and crowned her as the industrial queen of 
the globe. Whatever she decrees in style or form, is 
accepted by the world. Titles, wealth, learning, wis¬ 
dom and resolution, avail not against her fashions. All 
must submit to her behests. What gives Paris this 
privilege ? What is the secret of her supremacy ? 
Will any one deny that this marvelous result conies 
from her skilled and educated industry ? Her artisans 
create models, invent designs, and arrange colors with 
artistic effect. We seize upon their patterns as if 
there was no objection or vice in stealing. It costs 
less to plagiarize than to be original, and we entirely 
overlook the vice in the profit of the larceny, like 
some people who worship the devil but never mention 
his name. 

If it is asked, w T hy dwell upon these foreign examples, 
I reply that it is of the highest importance to any indus¬ 
trial community to ascertain by what methods other 
countries have trained skilled artists and artificers, in 
order that similar means may be adopted here, so far as 
they are suitable to our means and circumstances. It 
is owing to the lack of skill on the part of American 
workmen to produce many articles, that the demand 
must be supplied by importations from abroad. I will 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


283 


select but one illustration, from among many, of this 
truth : 

In the fiscal year ending June 30th, 1884, imported 
merchandise to the value of $667,375,389, was entered 
for consumption in the United States. It is safe to say 
that this prodigious statistic included articles requiring 
labor of the value of at least $300,000,000. Their pro¬ 
duction by our own people would have given employ¬ 
ment to 800,000 men, women and children, at 
average yearly wages of $375 each, and this in its 
turn would have given support to 2,000,000 people, for 
most of these articles, including the materials, with 
proper industrial education, could and should have been 
produced in the United States ; and the wage earners 
would have had $300,000,000 more to support them¬ 
selves and families. Surely it is the height of folly for 
us to refuse any longer to train our youth at home, when 
we send millions abroad for goods, a large portion of 
which goes to pay for the manual training which pro¬ 
duces the superiority of the foreign workmen, by whom 
we are beaten out of our own markets. Would it not be 
wiser and better to pay for that training among our¬ 
selves than across the ocean ? 

This question brings us directly to the subject of 
industrial education in the United States. 

There is no country in which so much solicitude 
has been shown for the general education of the people. 
No country preceded us in the path to free instruction, 
and in no country are such vast sums expended and 


284 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


such sumptuous provision made for moulding the mind 
with the elements of knowledge, and yet where have 
less pains been taken to improve the conditions under 
which men and women work ? 

It is admitted that our present mode of public educa¬ 
tion gives children many useful things. It teaches 
them to write and speak well, and to think intelligently. 
It gives them a literary taste, and a turn for eloquence 
and debate ; it prepares them for the occupations that 
obtain applause, and enhances the value of their labor 
in a general way when they take to industry. The 
value of an educated workman over an ignorant one, is 
thought to be at least 25 per cent, in material produc¬ 
tion. The commercial value of the alphabet and the 
moralizing effect of the multiplication table are import¬ 
ant factors in our national prosperity. The United 
States has enjoyed the benefits of this instruction, and 
stands before the world today demonstrating com¬ 
pletely, in their government, their laws, their general 
condition, and their social life, the efficacy of diffused 
education, and of what it has done for the people, to 
purify and uplift them, and inspire a determination to 
enforce their rights and secure their liberties. The 
citizen who would raise a hand to destroy or impair our 
public school system, is a misguided friend of the 
nation. “The state,” cries the threatening adage of 
the Communist, “owes every man a living.” We 
adopt with ardor the better wording, “the state owes 
every child an education.” And yet it is admitted that 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


285 


future changes in methods must* come as they have in 
the past. The public school has been reconstructed 
since the days when instruction was confined to teach¬ 
ing the children to read intelligently, to write legibly, 
and to cipher accurately, to that impassable boundary, 
“the Rule of Three.” Modes of teaching, like the 
laws, shape themselves to the necessities of society. We 
have outgrown the methods in vogue when there were 
no telegraphs or railroads, or ships of hammered iron, 
and where little was known of industrial chemistry or 
astronomy ; vastly more is now known of chemistry in 
its application to the useful arts, and the astronomers 
publish catalogues from which }^ou can find the place of 
a star in the heavens as easily as you can a man’s residence 
in Washington by looking into the city directory. 
Modes of instruction are not perpetual ; excelsior is the 
motto written on its history. One might as well say 
that the pair of shoes which he wears today must last 
forever, or that the lady’s bonnet of this season must 
remain as the only pattern for all ages. The flowers 
bud, bloom, expand and vanish. So it is with all insti¬ 
tutions planned by the mind and constructed by the skill 
of man. The thing that was useful and appropriate in 
a former period, can only be made valuable in the pres¬ 
ent or the future by conforming it to existing needs. 

No one can deny the superiority of the manual 
powers in all the useful pursuits of life, and that their 
proper training acts upon the mind itself and gives it 
real knowledge. The mental accomplishments come 


286 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


through the eyes and hands, and what we term informa¬ 
tion amounts only to the experience which is more 
frequently the operation of the senses than of the intel¬ 
lect. There is nothing in the mind unless first in the 
senses, was an epigrammatic saying of the old Romans. 
So that in teaching the use of tools we add new powers 
to the mind itself and dispel the prejudice that stamps 
the manual pursuits with a mark of inferiority. The 
friends of industrial education favor workshop practice, 
not for the purpose of teaching any particular trade, but 
as a part of general education. We do not propose to 
make the pupil in the public schools a carpenter, or a 
blacksmith, or an engineer; but we desire to develop 
his faculties, to give him manual skill, to make him 
acquainted with the properties of such common sub¬ 
stances as wood, iron, leather, and silk, to teach the 
hand and eye to work in unison, to accustom him to 
exact measurements, to make him familiar with the 
strength and weakness of materials, to show him how to 
draw an article, and how, by the use of tools, to pro¬ 
duce the real things which the drawing represents. In 
a word, to give him intelligent hands as well as intelli¬ 
gent brains, to draw forth the technic skill of his fingers 
just as we draw forth the verbal power of his memory. 
We hold that this kind of manual training can be given 
in connection with the ordinary school studies, so that 
all the faculties of the children over a certain age can 
be usefully exercised, and their knowledge extended 
into an intelligence of things, as well as an inter-com- 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


28 T 


munication of ideas ; whilst at the same time they will 
acquire a manual skill that cannot fail to be of import¬ 
ant use to the great mass of the children in all the 
circumstances of industrial life. 

In a word, we consider that the exercise of the 
manual powers is the supplement to those of the mind, 
and that it is only when acting in concert that the high¬ 
est development of both is attained. Manual training 
is, therefore, an indispensable part of a general education. 
It trains the hands to dexterous manipulation, and the 
whole character to healthful development; and when 
schooldays are over, the consciousness of the possession 
of active powers capable of immediate application will 
fill the heart with gratitude for the blessing of a sound 
and useful education. 

Manual training means practical knowledge, and it 
appeals to the humblest intelligence. You can never 
teach a boy how to chip a piece of iron with a cold chisel 
by mere talk and book-learning. There are people who 
declaim loudly about Magna Charta who could not 
mention one of its provisions. Men rave about the writ 
of habeas corpus who cannot translate the name it bears. 
There are nowadays many to whom the phrase capital 
and labor is, literally, meat and bread, who have no 
more conception of the science of capital than a tallow 
chandler has of electrical light, and whose constant 
effort appears to be never to convert their theory of work 
into anything like earthly labor. These classes of man¬ 
kind are content to lay hold of these phrases and to let 


288 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


others work out the,practical salvation of the idea. Let 
us train up the generations of our youth, that they may 
not despise labor, and that they will try to conquer the 
world by other means than idle declamations and set 
phrases. 

Of all the modes of teaching the young, manual 
training is the most simple, and the best adapted to their 
instincts, as well as the most practical. The success of 
life consists in work, and every child has the faculty of 
work. To the great mass of children it is the only hope of 
subsistence, the only basis of their position, the only means 
by which they can pay their way and make their efforts 
gainful. The faculty of labor opens the way to prosperity 
and to the highest rewards of industry and virtue. Parents 
should deem it to be their chief duty to give their off¬ 
spring an education that would develop this capacity ; 
and yet we know that the children leave the public 
schools with no knowledge of any useful vocation, and 
no place where they can go to learn one. A very large 
proportion of them go about seeking what they call a 
situation, but very few of them seek to live by industry. 
Their general education is a very fine beginning, and if 
they had learned practically to apply their lessons in 
mathematics, science and drawing to the principles that 
guide the different occupations of industrial art, if they 
had been instructed in some knowledge of working 
machinery, such as the lathe, and in the use of the 
ordinary tools, such as the square and chisel, it would 
have been of incalculable advantage to them. A boy, 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


289 


for instance, may know mensuration thoroughly, and all 
the six books of Euclid, but the chances are that he 
does not know how to apply that knowledge to the 
practical geometry of a single industry. Is it not an 
outrage upon the rights of our boys and girls to deprive 
them of all education of that faculty which must be 
their chief dependence ? 

Now most of us commence life as children. Very 
few of us are born old. The child is weak and needs 
strength; he is deprived of everything and needs assist¬ 
ance. All that we have need of at our birth, and all 
that we require as we grow up is given to us by educa¬ 
tion, and to leave the manual powers outside of educa¬ 
tional influence is like leaving Hamlet out of the play. 
“The true education,” says Rousseau, “consists less 
in precepts than in exercises.” Carlyle gave us a 
great lesson when he said the end of man is not thought 
but action. Hands, as well as heads, need education. 

‘ ‘Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, ' ’ 
is the Gospel doctrine ; but if you bring up the hand to 
idleness how will your child be saved ? There is a life 
of the body as well as that of the soul. Their action 
and function are reciprocal. One cannot be lowered 
and neglected without a corresponding influence upon 
the other. Bodily degradation gnaws at the vitals, dries 
up the spirit, eats into the marrow, and shakes the 
human being like a tempest. Hence come disgust, 
idleness, impotence, disease, and sometimes crime, 
madness and suicide. Against these evils mere intelli- 


19 


290 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


gence is not always a substantial protection. On the 
other hand, what a pleasure to rejoice in a strong, active 
body and well trained senses. How gay and bold these 
make the soul. The proud shape, the firm muscle, the 
strong arm, the rapid eye, and the splendid possibilities 
of the hand, brace up a man, and are the effective 
faculties of his independence and happiness. 

To live is not to respire ; it is to make good use of 
our organs, of our senses, of our faculties, and of all 
there is in us which gives us the sentiment of existence. 
Why, then, should children be educated as if they were 
never to leave the school, as if they were always to be 
surrounded b}^ teachers, and as if there was nothing in 
the world but mathematics, geography and grammar. 
I do not undervalue such studies—all knowledge has 
a relative value—but when the student is thrown upon 
the world full of science and geography, valuable as 
these are, he is lost; he shows his inaptitude, his fee¬ 
bleness and his pride. The 3^oung man of my day came 
out with quite a genteel assortment of rhetoric, history 
and grammar, a handsome allowance of algebra and 
polite literature, and he believed that figures of arith¬ 
metic and figures of speech were the pillars of society, 
while his friends deplored his inability to act the part 
of a man. 

We know that the child is naturally curious and 
eager for everything he sees ; he wants the cane in your 
hand, your watch, the bird that flies, the star that shines; 
he would like to pull down the weather-cock from the 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


291 


spire of the church steeple for a plaything. He regards 
as his own everything he can see or lay his hand upon ; 
he is the proprietor of the universe. Consider, also, how 
inquisitive he is. He puzzles you with his questions, 
confounds you with unexpected objections, and asks for 
information that would defy a civil service commissioner 
on a competitive examination. Should not this child be 
so trained that he will not be crushed beneath the weight 
of that universe which he thought moved only at his 
pleasure ? Nature has formed him with a quick eye, an 
imposing air, a wonderful hand, and the voice of an 
angel, and this earth that the Creator had made the first 
paradise of man can be redeemed only by the cunning 
of his fingers. What infinite delicacy can be got into 
those muscles, which, although pliant as the waving 
grass, will become strong as iron. 

The child wishes to create, to produce, and to give 
signs of power and activity. If he sees a laborer in 
the garden sowing seed, raising flowers or vegetables, 
he wishes to be a gardener in his turn. I have 
seen boys who would carry a hod or wheel a barrow 
from the sheer love of action. Lessons ought to be 
more in action than they are. It is during the period 
of studies and instructions that the child is prepared to 
become a man. To make his acquirements serve this 
purpose, his arms and hands, as well as his brains, need 
cultivation. Consider what direction manual training 
gives to these varied endowments. Consider the organs 
it calls into use, the inventive spirit it creates, and what 


292 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


a thinking power it calls forth. All the pupil sees, all 
he does, he wishes to know, and to find out the principle 
of everything, even of the instrument he uses. He 
admits nothing by supposition. If he sees a spring 
made, he wishes to know how the steel of which it is 
composed has been extracted from the mine; if he sees 
the pieces of a chest or trunk, he learns the tree from 
which they are cut, and as he works himself, he develops 
the power of observation, and so the hands labor for the 
profit of the mind. As an educational agent, to say 
nothing of its practical value, the importance of such 
instruction cannot be overestimated. To a student so 
trained, the choice of an industry is not a matter of much 
difficulty. His apprenticeship is nearly completed by 
the exercises that have occupied his time in the manual 
training school. What do you wish him to do ? He is 
ready for any industry. He can handle tools; he can 
use the lathe, the square and the file. The tools of all 
the industries are familiar to him. It is only a matter 
of acquiring their use on the double-quick in order to 
equal the very best workmen; but he will have this 
great advantage over them all: his senses have been 
justly exercised, the theory of his work and the mechan¬ 
ism of his art are known to him. He can soon work as 
a master. There is wanting only the dexterous habit 
of his art, and that he can gain in a few days or, at most, 
in a few weeks. 

From all this it will appear that I am in favor of 
manual training in school workshops. There are many 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


293 


important reasons on behalf of this plan. It would pro¬ 
vide the connecting link between books and tools, 
between abstract rules and the reality of things. It will 
teach the dignity of labor by example rather than by 
inflated declamation; it will serve to form industrious 
habits early in life, and give a taste for doing useful 
work with the hands, which our boys can never after¬ 
ward acquire except by years of drudgery in learning a 
trade; it will be a relief from the inactivity of school 
life, and counteract the tendency to develop a race of 
young men with pale faces and thin legs; it will culti¬ 
vate a respect for the worker and an appreciation for his 
work, and it will provide the children with a positive 
power to work in wood and metals with more or less 
precision, which will be a great aid to countless thou¬ 
sands who are thrown on their own resources in our large 
towns and cities. It will not only develop the muscles, 
but at the same time give steadiness, decision, energy, 
perseverance, and all the manly qualities of mind and 
body. It would not make gladiators as in Greece, but 
strong, decided, and capable men, who could put forth 
vigorous arms in the service of their families and their art. 

In Dickens’s novel called Nicholas Nickleby there 
is a certain teacher by the name of Squeers, who taught 
his pupils to spell words in a very practical way. When, 
for instance, “ cabbage ” was the word to be spelled, he 
sent the pupils into the garden to dig that vegetable up, 
and when they had to spell horse he sent them into the 
stable with a curry-comb to dress them down, so that 


294: 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


they were learning to work and spell at the same time. 
It was a very rough object lesson. Instead of all those 
disagreeable methods we propose workshops convenient 
to the schoolhouse. 

The question will be asked, can these industrial pro¬ 
cesses be taught in any manner approaching thorough¬ 
ness ? Is it possible to give the pupil an insight into the 
principles which underlie these processes, and then reduce 
said principles to practice ? There is no doubt,whatever. 
Let one hour be the limit of a lesson, thus recognizing 
the receptive capacity of the child. The number of 
studies must depend upon the experience of the teach¬ 
ers. Begin with only two or three, and, as an illustra¬ 
tion, let me take sewing : the pupil would be called 
upon to learn something of the thread to be used in sew¬ 
ing ; whence does it come ? That would lead to read¬ 
ing about cotton, its growth and preparation; then the 
different qualities and kinds of goods in use for cloth¬ 
ing, of which samples would be part of the equipment of 
the school, such as woolen, flax, and silk. The growth 
of wool would lead to a study in natural history, as would 
silk to an interesting study of the silk-worm, and the 
growth and preparation of flax. The pupil handling 
the goods would naturally become interested, and in the 
course of two or three years the aptitude of the pupil for 
this study would have developed itself. If the aptitude 
were there, his progress would be encouraging. If he 
had no special taste for such studies, he could take up 
others which would be more congenial. 


INDUSTRIAL, EDUCATION. 


295 


In all our schools composition is taught, which, in 
its simplest meaning, is to place our thoughts on paper. 
The child, as is now the case, is required to write a com¬ 
position ; after it is written, let him be called upon to set 
it up in type in the printing school. Here they would 
be taught about type and where it came from, how it is 
made, and what are its constituent elements, and who 
invented it. All these qualities would awaken thought, 
and lead the scholar to read and investigate. In the 
meantime he has become able to set type, to correct 
proofs, and does not the fact come out plainly how val¬ 
uable this experience would be in securing correctness 
in spelling, conciseness of expression, and a more 
thorough knowledge of the language than he could 
secure in any other way. 

And then in wood working what a field opens up to 
the youthful mind ! It prepares the pupils for carpentry, 
cabinet and joinery work, and makes them familiar with 
the solidity and texture of woods, the ease with which 
they can be cut, and the great number of uses in which 
they can be employed ; and they will, at the same time, 
acquire much botanical knowledge of trees from the for¬ 
est or the mountain, and the hardness, density, elas¬ 
ticity, and tenacity which characterize each kind of 
timber; as, for instance, that the hardness of the pitch- 
pine and fir trees is owing to the presence of a cer¬ 
tain proportion of gum and resin, that obstructs their 
pores and makes their fibers adhere as if glued together, 
but which enables them to take on a beautiful polish. 


296 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


The most elastic of woods are those whose fibers are the 
straightest, and when not disposed in curves nor turned 
out of their direction by knots or other excrescences, 
they split always in the line of the grain, lengthwise, or 
from end to end, as is seen in the case of the ash and 
the white walnut. Most all woods are lighter than water, 
but their lightness varies according to the nature of the 
tree. As a general rule, the tissue of the lower part of 
the trunk is closer than the upper part, and the tissue 
of the trunk is denser than that of the branches, and that 
of the heart is more so than that of the sap wood. Under 
the influence of water, air, and heat, wood submits to 
modifications which it is of the greatest importance to 
understand. The contraction of wood results from the 
elimination of moisture, with which the fibers are impreg¬ 
nated and swollen ; and the exterior parts drying much 
quicker than the centre, often leaves gaps, crevices, and 
flaws, which interfere with the usefulness and value of the 
timber. It is said that the service-tree, the pear-tree, the 
medlar, and box-wood are sometimes even split in drying. 

Some woods are beautifully veined and colored. 
When the tissue is irregular and wavy, the appearance 
would indicate almost artistic design. The maple has 
this peculiarity, and is, consequently, much used for 
decoration. Indeed, the beauty of wood not unseldom 
depends upon the disposition of the fibers and the color 
of the tissue. In many cases the tint is uniform. The 
poplar and aspen are white, the box-wood is yellow, 
mahogany is red orange, and ebony is black. There 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


297 


are observable several shades of the same color, which 
present a very agreeable contrast. These variations of 
color depend upon the conditions of the vegetable sap 
and the nature of the soil. 

Then there is much to be learned concerning the 
preservation of wood, from the moment it is cut into 
lumber until it is employed by the carpenter or the 
cabinet-maker, and the properties which determine the 
use to which it can be applied. The willow is made 
into handles for tools and into common chairs, and when 
cut into planks it is used for many purposes. It resists 
humidity, and the body can be driven into the earth for 
the foundations of buildings to be constructed in the 
water or upon soil that is not solid. The birch tree is 
variously employed. It is easily worked and receives 
a fine polish. The bark is also used for tanning leather. 
The chestnut is good for pilework, joists, and building 
timber. The diversities of climate engender a great 
variety of oaks, but it grows neither in the Torrid Zone 
nor in the intense climates of the Arctic. It is employed 
in most every kind of wood work, and grows in all the 
temperate regions of the earth. The service-tree is 
found in the same forests as the oak. Its tissue is very 
fine, hard and compact, and in virtue of these qualities 
it is much esteemed for the fabrication of wheel-work 
machinery and screw presses. The ash is a forest tree. 
It is the most flexible of wood, and at the same time has 
great tenacity, and is in great demand for the running 
part of carriages, spade-handles, axe-helves, saw-frames 


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INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


and hand-presses. It has also a superior quality for 
staircases and ladders. In color it is either brown or 
white, and can take on any hue desired, by the action 
of acids. And so the elm, the yew and holly trees, and 
many others that are employed in the industrial arts can 
all be made the subject of interesting and instructive 
study in the course of a manual training school. 

The same general considerations will apply to the 
study connected with working in iron and steel, as we 
have just seen in wood. This also would lead to some 
knowledge of the combustibles employed for the reduc¬ 
tion of the crude mineral form in which it exists in 
nature, and the immense line of purposes to which they 
are applied. 

The boys and girls educated in this way will have 
qualifications fitting them in a high degree for nine 
tenths of the occupations into which life’s duties are 
divided, and with God’s blessing have just ground to 
anticipate a useful and contented life. 

A beginning is usually made with a wood-working 
department containing benches, and supplied with the 
ordinary wood-working tools and turning lathes. A 
metal-working department can in the progress of time 
be added, containing benches, fitted with vises, and 
supplied with hammers, chisels and files, a small iron 
turning lathe, a small drilling machine, a hearth and 
some anvils. The course of instruction in these work¬ 
shops should be purely educational. There should be 
no idea of teaching a trade, nor of making articles for 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


299 


sale. Trade schools must be left at present to private 
enterprise. A very great degree of proficiency can be 
attained under a competent teacher by easy lessons of 
an hour twice a week, and sometimes the entire day, 
observing the same hours as in the ordinary studies, 
and working with and under the orders of the teachers. 
The pupils should be arranged in classes (according to 
pedagogic method), for in that way the knowledge which 
one has an opportunity of receiving is equally available 
to all. The teacher must be a man whose heart is in 
his work. The pupils could acquire a very valuable 
degree of mechanical knowledge as easy and in as short 
a period as they could learn to play the game of base¬ 
ball, or the art of dancing, or the manual of arms accord¬ 
ing to the rules of military tactics. The grand secret 
of manual training is that it makes the exercises of the 
senses and those of the mind serve to refresh and fortify 
each other. King Medas saw everything he touched 
change into gold. It is the magic of man’s industry that 
preserves that rich talent for the finger of skilled labor. 

In order still further to improve the practical intel¬ 
ligence of the children, there should gradually be 
accumulated in the same building with the workshop an 
industrial museum which would show the progress of 
the various arts, from the raw material to the manu¬ 
factured article; and also a collection of instruments 
with which to explain the principles of machinery, and 
the importance of applied science bearing upon industry. 
A superb foundation is already prepared in the high 


300 


INDUSTRIAL, EDUCATION. 


schools for a course of manual training, by the intro¬ 
duction of chemistry, drawing and natural philosophy 
among the ordinary studies. These branches have a 
very important relation to a great variety of the useful 
arts, and they can nowhere be taught so well as in 
practical work. Indeed, drawing should be made a 
compulsory study, as much so as writing, for it is the 
language of the fingers, as writing is the language of the 
mind. Now any boy or girl who relieves the tedium of 
routine lessons by drawing a caricature of the teacher 
upon a slate or on their desk, representing him with a 
bulging forehead and a big nose, can as easily work 
upon a square and bisect its sides into equal parts, and 
draw the diagonals and study the effect of these lines 
upon the figure. Free-hand especially should be taught 
in all the school grades. What is a free-hand line? It 
is an operation which consists in passing the point of 
the crayon to a determined end in a correct manner, with 
an intelligent will, upon a sheet of paper. You can 
draw several straight parallel lines, making one larger 
than the other alternately, and you obtain stripes as 
seen in textile fabrics. In making these lines vert¬ 
ical and horizontal you obtain crosses, chess-boards, 
brick pavements, rose figures in architecture, and poly¬ 
gon stars, producing, before you are aware of it, fine 
specimens of industrial design. This is excessively 
simple and quite within the capacity of a child of seven 
or eight years. Elementary design is to draw with a 
free-hand the forms of objects, and in giving to the rising 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


301 


generation the true elements of form, and in exercising 
them in its beauties we gradually develop their imagi¬ 
nation into the production of every variation of form. 
This method teaches variety, and instead of constant 
repetition of a single form, like that of an equilateral 
triangle, it can be turned to great esthetic effect by 
composing it into new dispositions, such as decorated 
triangles, flowered vases, rose shaped ornaments, panel 
embroideries, and mosaic or inlaid work, showing that 
the triangular element can be extended to all possible 
surfaces. These figures are within the capacity of 
children long before they reach the high school classes. 

Mechanical drawing is of equal, if not greater, impor¬ 
tance still. The line of the square, the oblique line, and 
the curve line are the natural divisions based upon 
mechanical operations, and prepare workmen to exercise 
all sorts of mechanical employments. It teaches exact 
mechanical methods of dividing lines, finding centres, 
constructing various angles, polygons, etc. It is the 
kind of drawing referred to when we say, ‘ ‘ He is a poor 
workman, he cannot even read a drawing.” The dif¬ 
ferent methods of representing screws, bolts, parts of 
machines, connecting and eccentric rods, and their plans 
and elevations, belong to this branch of drawing. 

A father recently sent his son to steel works on 
trial for a short time. He had not been long there 
when the foreman set him to make a working drawing, 
from a sketch, for a steel casting. The boy had been 
taught machine drawing at school, and to his employer’s 


302 


INDUSTRIAL, EDUCATION. 


astonishment the drawing was just what was wanted 
and quite superior to the drawings he had been in the 
habit of receiving. This, of course, increased the value 
of the boy’s labor at once. 

Drawing is an essential element in industrial educa¬ 
tion, and in learning to draw the pupil is taught to 
apply it to the material, and in learning to work the 
material they are taught to design the article on which 
the drawing is carried out. In this way art is brought 
into the workshop by the student. 

Many parents fear to have their sons become mechan¬ 
ics. Now, although a manual training school depart¬ 
ment is the best place to find out what a boy can do, 
there is no compulsion as to the selection of an occupa¬ 
tion. If he has no taste or inclination for tools and 
workshops; if he has a disposition to leave the ranks of 
labor for a situation as a clerk in somebody’s store, 
where he can wear a black coat and a monumental shirt 
collar, he can follow his desire. But most of the pupils 
will find that they are fitted for something better. There 
will be many who have no aptitude for working with 
their hands, just as there are many who have no aptitude 
for working with their heads, although they do not seem 
to know it, and whether they carry their brains in their 
heads or their fingers no one can tell. They may be 
conscious of skill in some direction, perhaps in the 
clouds of a political dreamland, vaguely hoping for 
lightning to strike them, and if it did strike them it 
could do but little damage. And so they float on, hoping 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


303 


for something quite unattainable, just as they hope for 
a heavenly future, without doing anything to deserve it. 
Perhaps your son, instead of working like a Cyclop at 
the forge, will develop a taste for an art industry that 
requires elegance, to beautify and adorn our modern 
life, as, for example, the workers in gold and silver, in 
bronze and fresco ; or he may reveal a determined bias 
for applying physical science to art, as in the construc¬ 
tion of mathematical, surgical and astronomical instru¬ 
ments. The trades are limited, but those of art industry 
are infinite. Your son may become portly enough for 
an Alderman of the boodle order, intellectual enough fora 
District Commissioner, patriotic enough for a Congress¬ 
man, or even sharp enough fora conscientious insurance 
agent, but do not imagine fora moment that he is too good 
to learn any branch of skilled labor. If he brings home a 
drawing of Ajax defying the lightning, you need not put 
on airs, as if he were an artist before whose brilliant 
genius that of Michael Angelo will pale its ineffectual 
fires. Of course we all admit that he is a daisy, and 
yet the heavens and the earth are not exclusively con¬ 
cerned in this wonderful child. Far better if he can 
draw a sewing machine, a printing press, or a loco¬ 
motive, for it is from this class of boys that the 
future men of mark and influence will come in this 
practical country. The ideas in the minds of many 
people have been that education was going to save their 
children from hard work. Is it not to be feared that 
the present system of instruction is in great danger of 


304 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


encouraging this notion, and of creating habits and 
tastes which unfit the mind for the work before it, 
instead of fitting and aiding it ? The school ought to 
enlist the best talent on the side of skilled labor, and if 
it does not you may be sure we are on the wrong course. 
Industry is the most profound, as it is the most ancient, 
base of human society. Education should, therefore, 
train our young people to honor it, and to give them an 
inclination for industrial work by making them familiar 
with it and somewhat skillful in its performance. 

Besides, there ought to be a natural relationship 
between a man and his work in this world, and when 
that relationship is not respected there can be no true 
work and no true peace. Eife becomes a burden to be 
borne by one in the wrong occupation. You forge for 
him a life-long trouble. His destiny is only comparable 
to that of the damned shade in the antique hades, who 
was forced incessantly to roll the weight of a huge rock 
up a high hill, only to see it again descend to the plain 
below. You say you will make your son a physician, 
or a gunsmith, but if he has no aptitude for these pur¬ 
suits you doom him to a life of weariness and discontent. 
Better make him a bell hanger, and then he will be sure 
at least to make some noise in the world. In the infinite 
variety of employments that Nature has furnished for her 
children, there will be found some work for which he 
has a bias, and which can be revealed nowhere so well 
as in a manual training workshop. If there is anything 
in the lad it is sure to come out. Better make him a 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


305 


good machinist, or architect, or gardener, than a poor 
lawyer or, what is worse, a poor preacher. It is not of 
so much consequence what one does as how he does it. 
The man exalts the pursuit, and not the pursuit the 
man. Your boy may be as much out of place in a pro¬ 
fession as are the black cherubs painted in the altar 
pieces of Domencihino. Bring him up in the way he 
should go, and when he grows up he will probably be 
above the average ; but bring him up in the way to go 
it, and ten to one he will turn out a tramp or a dude. 

According to the last annual report (1886-87) °f the 
Commissioner of Education, provision has been made 
for manual training in at least 79 separate schools and 
educational institutions in the States and Territories.* 
The means of their support are derived from voluntary 
contributions and endowments, and, in a few instances, 
by appropriations of public funds. Instruction is given 
in elementary drawing and science, and in the practice 
of tools used in wood and iron work. Instruction is also 
given in the industries for which women are adapted, as 
sewing, drawing, coloring, wood carving, embroidery, 
and household work. 

In my book on “Education as Applied to Manual 
Industry,” I call attention to the important fact that 
according to a statement made in Harper’s Magazine 
for August, 1883, there are 284 occupations open to 
women in Massachusetts, and that 251,152 women are 
earning their own living, receiving each from $150 to 
$3,000 a year. This is almost double the number in 


* Since that time the number has been greatly increased. 
20 



306 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


the census of 1880, and does not include mothers or 
daughters in the household, nor domestic servants. 
Young women are learning trades in order to make 
their own living. They learn book-binding, shoe mak¬ 
ing, wood carving, and others, for which they are pecu¬ 
liarly well adapted. Wherever superiority of handwork 
consists in taste and in fineness of execution, they are 
taking an equal chance, if they are not even preferred 
to their brothers. In ornamentation and typography 
they are already recognized, and you find them in the 
printing rooms of our publishers, raising and placing 
the letter with an agility of hand which equals the dex¬ 
terity of the skilled compositor. I saw last summer a 
young woman frescoing one of the grand dwellings on 
the 5th Avenue, and she was covering the surface with 
beautiful colors and designs. I noticed that her dress 
was extremely neat. 

A great number of objects that were formerly made 
by handwork are now furnished by mechanical inven¬ 
tions, and the workmen, instead of a general knowledge 
of their trade, are required to possess only a special 
competency in a particular branch of their work. Small 
workshops maintain a precarious existence; and instead 
of trades being transmitted from father to son, they cease 
to exist with the father, and the second generation is 
usually ashamed of the ancestral employment. 

A boy was refused admission into a workshop where 
there were 59 artisans of foreign birth. You say that 
immigrants cannot be excluded, but why exclude Amer- 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


307 


icans ? Why should our own children be aliens in their 
own country? We are sensitive about the Monroe doc¬ 
trine, while the subjects of other nations land upon our 
shores in greater numbers than the Goths and Huns 
that overwhelmed Southern Europe in the early ages, 
and they generally join a society that excludes the 
American boy from learning a trade. Indeed, there does 
not appear to be any other way of supplying those who 
can perform our industries except through the manual 
training of our youth during the educational period of 
life. 

Then again, every time that there is a discovery of a 
new process by which the same product can be manu¬ 
factured, or by which the same result can be obtained 
by less effort of hands, or at a less price of money, or 
less employment of time, there is undoubtedly a gain 
for the general cause of humanity, but it is often at the 
cost of much individual suffering this gain is purchased. 
How many humble existences, accustomed to obtain 
their livelihood from an existing art, will suddenly 
behold a profound trouble brought into their modest 
sphere by these discoveries so beneficent in themselves, 
and yet which 1 fall upon thousands of beings like a 
calamity. But progress is itself the artisan of distress. 
There is no conqueror more pitiless. It crushes all that 
oppose it, and never suspends its course to allow its 
victims time to think of their tears or wounds. Nor can 
any human being say to it: Thou shall go no further. 
These sufferings are for civilization the price of its vie- 


308 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


tories, and the shadow upon the splendor of its picture, 
but, like the lance of Achilles, it cures the wounds it 
inflicts. 

Our youth must hereafter be taught, if taught at all, 
in the workshop and school combined. Theory and 
science must go hand in hand with practical application 
and manipulative skill. Actual work must illustrate 
the principles taught in the science and art lessons of 
the school. A man who works without knowing the 
underlying theory is just as badly off as he who under¬ 
stands the theory and knows nothing about the manual 
operation of the trade. Take a mechanic who is thor¬ 
oughly familiar with the machine upon which he has 
been operating day by day for a long period, and it will 
be found that he is unable to give an intelligent descrip¬ 
tion of its principle, or of its workings and relations to 
other machines with which it is carrying out the same 
process. If he were called upon to protect a patent for 
the property in that machine, ten to one he could not 
draw a claim at all, or at least it would be found that 
his description is so limited by reference to the details 
and incidental features of the patent, that the very soul 
of the invention would have escaped. Not knowing the 
principle of the machine, he cannot appreciate its defects, 
and consequently is unable to improve its construction, 
or advance his art, and he remains comparatively an 
unskilled laborer. Now, this is the condition of a man 
that cannot advance beyond his machine. On the other 
hand, if he understands its theory, he may w r ork with a 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


309 


spade, a hoe, or tend a spindle in a mill, he will seize 
some advance that will for the moment raise him above 
his tool. The intelligent eye of the workman, intent 
not only on the process of his art, beams with rapture 
while he surveys the principles that lie behind the power 
of mere brute force; nor can we doubt the transports of 
his soul, as trains of thought and reflections dimly afford 
him a hint of the possible existence of a better method, 
of which he had never heard. It stimulates his mind ; 
he follows it up until the fire of invention kindles in his 
brain. 

In the discussion whether manual training should 
constitute any part of public instruction, some of the 
most competent authorities are in its favor. The school 
authorities of Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and 
Chicago have, to a limited extent, made a movement in 
that direction. It is certainly an educational matter of 
serious importance, especially in cities and large towns, 
and the views expressed are generally in favor of the 
plan. A commencement has been made in various parts 
of the country, including geometrical and free-hand 
drawing, modeling and designing, the teaching of 
carpentry, metal w T ork and wood carving. The work 
performed is as yet quite elementary, and the tools 
employed not very numerous; the girls exhibit patch- 
work, quilts, aprons, handkerchiefs and drawing. 
These exercises have been crowned with success, and in 
some lines of work the progress has been pronounced 
wonderful. The Industrial Education Society of the 


310 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


City of New York recently gave an exhibition of the 
work done by children who had received instruction in 
manual training schools, and exhibits came from most 
of the states and some of the territories. The work of 
the boys was highly commended by the press. A com¬ 
mittee appointed some weeks ago by the Commissioners 
of Education in New York, to investigate the subject of 
industrial education, have since reported in favor of this 
new branch of public school instruction, and the 
Industrial Education Society has offered to instruct the 
public school children without expense to the city.* 
Not less than 600 of the public school children in Phila¬ 
delphia take a course of manual training, and it is stated 
that this is a high school with manual exercises consti¬ 
tuting a feature of equal importance with the mental 
exercises; and the Board of Education design to 
establish three or four more schools of the same kind. 

Since the spring of 1884, manual training has consti¬ 
tuted a part of the city public school system in Baltimore, 
and the Superintendent of the schools, Mr. Henry A. 
Wise, expresses an opinion in its favor, and recommends 
its extension to both sexes. Many of the smaller towns 
and cities, like Gloucester in Massachusetts, New Haven 
in Connecticut, Montclair in New Jersey, and Toledo in 
Ohio, have made practical trial of a workshop in connec¬ 
tion with their public schools. 

The publications of our technological institutions 


* Manual training has since been introduced into a certain number of the 
public schools in New York City, and the results have been highly satisfactory. 



INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


311 


show that they have excellent systems of hand-work, in 
which the students are taught, practically, a variety of 
mechanical operations, and in which the instructions 
of the classroom and the laboratory are supplemented 
by those given in the workshop. Thus there are con¬ 
stant interchanges between the practical and the theoret¬ 
ical studies—constant excitement, action and reaction of 
all the faculties. Some forty or fifty of our colleges and 
universities, recognizing the new method of teaching, 
have provided and furnished fully equipped plants of 
the typical machine and hand tools, as a necessary 
feature of a general education, and a most valuable aid 
to intellectual development. The day is not far distant, 
in my opinion, when even the most illustrious seats of 
learning and culture will appreciate the advantages that 
may be derived from an education of all the human 
faculties, and when the schoolhouse, the academy, and 
the college will vie with each other in affording to every 
child who desires it, a fair opportunity for the training 
of those manual powers so necessary to secure his happi¬ 
ness and prosperity. 

The chief difficulty is to reach the great mass of 
children whose parents cannot afford to keep them at 
school after they are old enough to earn something. 
To the boys and girls in the high schools, manual train¬ 
ing would come in almost as a luxury, or, at least, as a 
very great relief. But how shall we get down to the real 
substratum of the public school ? The theories of indus¬ 
trial training would seem to be best adapted to the con- 


312 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


dition of the great majority of those who are taught, for 
they are made up of the youthful representatives of work¬ 
ing people, or of those in moderate circumstances, who 
constitute the bulk of American society, and who are 
destined to lives of work in one form or another. 
Should not the probable environments of their future 
lives be considered in furnishing a suitable discipline for 
their minds ? When boys are young they are very duc¬ 
tile, and easily obtain adroitness in the use of tools. 
The teachers in these school workshops inform us how 
delighted the children are with handling and making 
things. Hand-work has been introduced by law into 
the commercial, or public, schools of Paris, and it is 
found that so much skill can be acquired in handicraft 
work during the last year or two of their school life, by 
children of ten years or upwards, as to be of very great 
use to them in any and every occupation in which they 
may be subsequently engaged. Now, if we would insti¬ 
tute a system of teaching the use of tools, first in the 
graded classes and then in the high schools, I venture 
to suggest that it would be a most valuable supplement 
to the ordinary lessons in arithmetic, grammar, and 
drawing, and would exert an influerice and produce 
modifications in school work which we can .scarcely 
realize. It would give handiness to all the children 
through the vast network of the public schools. It 
would give them a fitting preparation for the industries 
of life, and teach them the realities of whatever they 
might see. Perhaps you have heard of the incident of 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


313 


the country rustic, who, for the first time, saw a rail¬ 
way. It happened to be at a point where there was 
deep cutting and a tunnel. He saw the train coming 
along at a prodigious rate. He heard the whistle, and 
then it ran into the tunnel. He afterwards told his 
neighbors that he did not think much of that sort of 
thing at all. He was asked what it was. “Why,” 
said he, “I saw a great big thing coming along at a 
furious pace, but, big as it was, it no sooner saw me 
than it set up a great scream and ran into a hole.” 
He took the train for an animated being, and the scream 
of the whistle to represent a shriek of fear, and the 
tunnel to represent a hole. So ill trained had been 
his senses that he saw, but did not know what he was 
seeing. 

The experiment in Boston has been attended with 
extraordinary success, and, as if to put the old method 
and the new face to face with each other, the shop-room 
has been situated in the basement of the public Uatin 
and high school, with a girls’ cooking school not far off. 
It is a curious fact that cooking, which must necessarily 
have been one of the first arts for the use of mankind, 
and has always been taught to succeeding generations, 
has, apparently, never been learned, except by a very 
few Frenchmen. The art is, likely, very difficult, and the 
cook, like the poet, nascitur non fit. These faults can¬ 
not be charged against the cooking schools in the 
United States, which teach the simple manner of cook¬ 
ing “Soups, Stews, and choice Ragouts,” in a plain 


314 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


and wholesome manner. So, while the girls are vexing 
their souls over stews and cakes, the boy who has been 
wearying himself for days in tracing the root of a Latin 
derivative may be seen hammering a nail or locking a 
joint at the end of the week. Perhaps you think it is 
not much to drive a nail or hollow out a mortise. It is 
not a great deal in itself, but it is relatively much. It 
gives the children the use of their hands, and may serve 
to determine their pursuits in life, for when they know 
how to make one piece they can learn to do others; at 
first a table, a chair, a closet, or a wonderful piece of 
machinery. 

It would be impossible for me to describe the ways 
in which wood-working executes its various occupa¬ 
tions. It enters into architecture, machinery, all forms 
of structures on land or water, it fashions and frames 
our furniture, and assists every other art known to man. 
Indeed, it would require volumes to give an account of 
its processes in all civilized communities. He who is 
skilled in the manner in which its tools must be handled, 
as well as in the principles which it embodies, is an 
artist of no small merit, and may become the constructer, 
the builder, or the engineer. In raising our country to 
a degree of prosperity almost unequalled in the world, 
this art has been of immense consequence. It is, for all 
these reasons, the best calculated of all the materials to 
begin with, for it enters into such a multitude of pur¬ 
suits. 

And coming nearer home, we find in Washington 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


315 


various institutions with the manual feature of instruc¬ 
tion. The Industrial Home School of the District of 
Columbia gives children over the age of ten oppor¬ 
tunities for learning trades, and perhaps it illustrates 
better than any other manual training school in the 
country that mental and manual training can be suc¬ 
cessfully combined, in strict conformity with pedagogic 
principles. An industrial class has, for several years, 
been a noticeable feature in the Howard University, and 
a workshop has been recently fitted up in the basement 
of the high school. There are also schools for training 
nurses, for cooking, kindergartens, and an industrial 
school for colored children, supported by means derived 

^ 4 

from private sources, and whose efficacy, I am pleased 
to learn, is constantly increasing. In fact, the interest 
of teachers, as well as of the people, has been aroused 
wherever the experiment has been made, and they 
express their hearty satisfaction that manual training is 
fast taking a prominent rank in school studies. And it 
is now fully demonstrated that, by applying to the study 
of drawing, sewing, cooking, wood and metal working, 
printing, working in leather, modeling, weaving, and 
other manual .occupations, the same pedagogic methods 
that are now employed in the usual studies of the 
pupils, the same measure of success would be reached. 

One of the worst results of the present system of 
education, is that the children generally graduate from 
the public schools with an idea that it is beneath their 
dignity to go into any kind of skilled work, and too 


316 


INDUSTRIAL, EDUCATION. 


many of them prefer going into stores or business houses 
as clerks, or into other pursuits equally precarious and 
unproductive. A system of workshop practice would 
teach them better than this. The pupil would become 
acquainted with the different tools employed in the 
trades, and the mode of using them. He would be 
able to prepare the plan and make the article, and he 
would acquire the elements of different industries. In 
acquiring this proficiency, the pupil would frequently 
be seen with his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, taking 
great interest in the exercise. Sometimes he would be 
seen with stained hands and leathern apron, swinging 
the hammer, shoving the plane, or busy at the anvil 
and the forge. He learns the nature of the material 
upon which he works, the tissue of the fiber in wood, 
the grain of the stone, the density of metals, the opera¬ 
tion of machinery, the handling of tools, and the technic 
skill of manipulation. His mind is enlarged, his powers 
of observation improved. He sees his instructor in the 
same garb as himself, and, instead of being a menial 
while learning a trade, he becomes a propagandist of 
respect for labor. The taste of art remains with him, to 
cheer his life and sweeten his character, and instead of 
making the child a machine, a victim, and an enemy, 
he becomes an intelligent associate and a friend of 
society. Such instruction elevates the workman, for it 
often shows that the artist sleeps in the artisan, and only 
needs to be awakened, like the image of the sculptor 
developed from the heart of the rude and shapeless 


INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION. 


317 

block. The moral effect is striking. The artisan does 
not turn from his work with disgust. His art makes 
him love it, and enhances it in his own eyes, and makes 
his condition more prosperous and contented. 

Manual training is less addicted to memorizing rules 
and abstract formulas, but substitutes a spirit of observa¬ 
tion, of research, and a process of reasoning essentially 
analytical, thereby exciting the reflective and critical 
powers of the mind, and training all the faculties 
designed for education. So that, aside from the argu¬ 
ments in favor of its practical utility, manual training 
as a mental discipline is of unspeakable value. It 
excites in the minds of the scholars the most elevated 
emotions and thoughts; it presents the spectacle of 
human life and activity in all their power and diversity, 
and shows the causes which have made our destiny, and 
the struggle of men against nature, which has created 
our civilization. As much and more than mental train¬ 
ing, it teaches the value of courage, patience, and per¬ 
severance to men and nations. Its models and master¬ 
pieces inspire our admiration, and those who have 

# 

created them excite sympathy and gratitude. It ani¬ 
mates our heart for those who embellish life by their 
labor, and yet suffer and toil under our eyes. It is so 
intellectual that it has no need of being useful, and it is 
so useful that it can dispense with being intellectual, 
and still retain our favor. 

I know there is a sentimental prejudice, which con¬ 
siders that it mars the high claims and moral influence 


318 


INDUSTRIAL, EDUCATION. 


of truth and knowledge to subordinate them to practical 
uses, and that they should form the mind alone, and 
inspire it with noble thoughts, just as high art appeals 
exclusively to the sentiments and imagination. Indus¬ 
trial education takes a wider sweep, and, while appre¬ 
ciating all knowledge and refinement, it devotes its 
teaching to the useful arts which are constantly exer¬ 
cised in supplying the material wants of man, and, at the 
same time, no less administering to the aspirations of 
the soul, and aiding it in its strivings towards perfec¬ 
tion by elevating hope and pleasure into labor, and 
redeeming it from the primeval curse into one of God’s 
greatest blessings to mankind. 


THE END. 


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